


Velveteen Werewolf

by Prototype



Series: The Magenta Universe [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, M/M, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 51,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prototype/pseuds/Prototype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magenta and Mikey are still, somehow, together despite all the blood and mess and chaos she routinely invites into their lives. On top of that, Mikey wants more from her - he wants a commitment. </p><p>And committing to a werewolf is no easy decision. </p><p>It gets a whole lot harder when Mikey and Magenta's honeymoon gets interrupted by a militarised religious group, hellbent on enslaving a werewolf to their cause. Expect blood, guts and a shit ton of bad language. </p><p>Written shortly after Magenta Moon Rising. Also, I suck at writing summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

Some animals on Earth mate for life. Some species of bird, like penguins, pair and stay together forever. Some reptiles do, and mammals too. Dogs, in particular, whilst being more free in their attachments, stay firmly in a pack or close to a partner. Wolves, too, mate for life and bond as time goes on. 

Such as it was with Magenta and myself. Magenta Sharp came into my life explosively, falling out of her van in a haze of smoke, rock music, and pheromones. She was nothing like me to begin with. She had problems and issues that took her above the bitchy, backstabbing highschool world I’d surrounded myself in. When I found out she was a werewolf, hunting her murderer father, I was more than a little surprised. 

But it didn’t stop me falling in love with her. 

And, like wolves, we bonded together. It’s been six years now, and we’re still as in love as young, love struck pups. My heart was pounding against my ribcage now, when I was only inches from her body. My neck was hot and my eyes watered painfully every time I thought was what this evening was. Our six year anniversary. 

Magenta refused, point blank, to celebrate it in the traditional method of dressing up and going out to dinner. Instead she persuaded me to invite all our close friends over to have a bit of a party. 

It’d be a party she’d never forget. 

The building we lived in now was typical of a first apartment building – cheap and rather nasty. It was the best we could afford on our meagre incomes. The lifts didn’t work, and stunk of piss. The stairs didn’t have working lights due to all the light bulbs being smashed and the walls were covered in graffiti and posters of local nightclubs we frequented. There were a few prostitutes on the lower floors, a lot of pot dealers and the like in the others, a few nervous families of Asians and students. Magenta and I lived on the top floor, with almost exclusive access to the roof, and we had our own balcony we’d filled with plants and flowers. There were only three rooms to the apartment, a bedroom, a kitchen/living room/dining room and a bathroom.

Right now, our living room was stuffed with our closest friends and relatives. Most were clueless about Magenta’s condition, her wolfy nature. The few that knew either thought it was the coolest thing ever, or ignored it and treated her as normally as anyone could treat someone as bizarre and harsh as her. 

I looked across the small room from where I stood with my brother and his boyfriend, Frank, and stared at her. I knew she could feel me watching her, there was a secretive small smile etched on her face, one I knew she meant for only she to see – no one else would even count it as a smile. 

That was the beauty about Magenta. Even the tiniest smile from her made your day, because they were so rare. 

“Are you sure…tonight’s the right night?” asked Frank, perched on the bench that separated the living room from the kitchen area. I moved a few empty beer bottles and ignored his rather frightened look. 

“Why not? I want her to know how serious I am about her,” I said, glaring vaguely at him. Gerard stepped forward, ducking his head closer to mine. 

“But do you really think this is the right way? She’s not really the type…”

I glared a bit more. “How do you know that? It’s not a big change or anything, I just want to make it official and stuff…”

“If it’s so small, why bother? You guys are perfectly happy like this, aren’t you?” asked Frank, verging on whining. I sighed irritably and drank some more of the beer in my hand, my eyes looking up to meet Magenta’s, even through her usual shaded gaze. She never took those sunglasses, except when it was just me and her, and maybe Gerard and Frank if they were lucky and caught her on a day she wasn’t homicidal. 

I smiled warmly at her, feeling the connection between us fizzle – as soon as everyone left and stopped drinking our booze, I knew we’d rip the clothes from each others bodies and make love like it was the first time in years. 

I knew she’d say yes, the connection between us was so blazing that something as simple as asking her to be my wife wouldn’t even touch it. 

I knew standing there letting Gerard and Frank whine about it was a waste of precious time. I had a feeling Gerard was only agitated because he knew once Magenta and I were engaged, Frank might start wanting the same thing from Gerard. Oh well. Now was perfect. The light in our little flat was low and warm, glowing on the tapestries and coloured drapes Magenta had filled it with. The usual stacks of books and bills were tidied away and you could actually _see_ the coffee table. The air was warm with laughter and the scent of flowers and herbs from our balcony. 

Magenta, my werewolf, sat on the cracked leather couch, surrounded by a few of her girlfriends from the area, hard-bitten girls with brightly coloured hair, piercings and huge leather boots. I could see my mom giving them shifty looks from over her wineglass, which they ignored. 

I made my way over to her slowly, all the while keeping the heated eye contact between her and me. People tried to talk to me, involve me in their small mingled groups, but I waved them aside with a smile, aiming for my soon to be bride. 

By the time I’d woven my way to right in front of her, most of the flat’s occupants eyes were on me and the strange feeling I gave off. I was ready to puke, I was so nervous but at the same time so excited. This was it!

“Mags,” I said, offering her my hand. She smiled properly now, and a shiver went through the flat. There was something amazing when she smiled. It made her eyes glow behind her shades, a flash of light I was sure only I’d seen. She took my hand and let me pull her off the couch. “I need to talk to you,” I said, more for the benefit of all those around us. She could read me better than I could read myself. 

She reached my level and leaned forward to give me a little kiss, ignoring the ‘awww’s audible until the hum of music. “Sure,”

Gerard and Frank were rapidly shaking their heads at me, mouthing ‘don’t!’ but I ignored them stonily, glaring. I couldn’t believe how unsupportive they were being! Mags and I went into our bedroom, which was honestly just a nest in which we curled up together in a huge cloth bundle on the floor, there was no furniture or windows to distinguish it from a box. I flicked on the light we’d only used three or four times for the year or so we’d lived here. Magenta looked surprised. 

“What’s up?” 

“Well…” I said, taking her hands, facing her in the rainbow draped room, the floor woven into a massive basket like creation, several duvet crushed beneath our feet. “I was going to ask you out there, but I had a feeling you’d kill me,” I grinned sheepishly. Heat rose up the back of my neck as I stuttered, nerves suddenly casting all my intentions to the corners of the room.

“Ask me what?” she prompted, frowning lightly. She reached up to shove her sunglasses up her face, threading her thick braided dreadlocks back from her face. Her eyes pierced into mine, simultaneously making me stronger and scaring me shitless. 

“Will…Will…Mags…I…” I stuttered, reaching up to brush my forehead. 

“Hey, hey, relax,” she said, reaching up to take my face in her hands and kissing me, stealing the words I couldn’t manage. “What is it, baby?”

“Will you…marry me?” I breathed, opening my eyes to focus on her pitch black eyes, the jagged red circles where her iris’s were meant to be widening in shock. Then the worst thing ever happened. She tossed back her head and burst out laughing. 

Gerard stuck his head in the door. 

“We did try to warn you…”


	2. II

I was sulking on the roof. Magenta had been too hysterical to talk to and Gerard and Frank didn’t make me feel any better by trying to explain that Magenta had mentioned to them how stupid she thought marriage was - they couldn’t have told me this earlier?!

I hmphed and sat moodily on the lip of the building, my legs laced through the iron bars and my arms resting on them, my chin on my forearms. I groaned every time I thought of that split second when Magenta threw back her head and laughed at me and my marriage proposal. 

She couldn’t breathe for laughing, there were tears coming out of the sides of her eyes. I couldn’t help but feel humiliated, and brushed off. This had been important to me. I wanted to prove to her, to the world, and to me, that she was mine, that we were the real deal. That we weren’t just this mismatched couple who had sex three or four times a day and still rolled up to parties separately. And this…this was the worst thing, like, ever. 

I groaned. I knew I wasn’t wrong about how we felt for each other – we were deeply in love! She told me at least once a day she loved me, that she’d do anything for me, and I’d returned the feeling. I loved her so madly I was considering…

“Mikes?”

I stiffened and shut my eyes. I should have smelt her scent when she entered the roof entrance. She crossed the roof, her boots crunching and I felt her eyes boring into the back of my head. She reached me and her hands wound onto my shoulders, gripping tightly. “I’ve stopped laughing,” she said, her hands tracing up the back of my neck, her fingers weaving into my hair and freeing the beanie I wore.

“Gee, thanks,” I said, my eyes still shut as she pulled my beanie off completely and ran her fingers through my hair, nails teasing the skin. She knew I loved the feeling of her fingers caressing my hair. 

“Don’t be angry, baby, I didn’t mean to,”

She was shit at apologising. I hmphed and nudged my head away from her magic fingers. Her body pressed against my back, hands now weaving down my shoulders to pull me into a semi hug. “No, hear me out,” she said firmly. 

“You know me, I’m not a normal girl,”

I had to laugh at that. 

“Ok, I admit, I’m the least normal you can get, so why would I want to get married, baby? It’s a pointless ceremony that just means spending money and time and energy on a single day which won’t make our love any stronger,”

I had to admit, she had a point there. Shit it all. 

“Baby, please don’t be upset because I laughed, I couldn’t help it, you just looked so terrified!”

She bent down to kiss the side of my head, nuzzling my ear. I sighed, she was winning me over. Why did I always give up when I was angry with her? It wasn’t like I could hurt _her_ feelings. 

“You hurt my feelings,” I muttered, trying to give her some indication of how much she’d upset me. She hugged me tighter into her body, kissing my neck. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. But marriage seems so…human to me. It’s not the kind of connection I want with you,”

There was something about the way she said it that made me look around, only to find her lips pushed into mine, her tongue pushing into mine. She kissed me so hungrily I almost forgot the argument. We weren’t very good at having decent arguments, to be honest. They turned Mags on too much.  

“What do you mean?” I demanded, freeing myself from her tantalising grip. She smiled at me, moving to sit on the narrow ledge, her back facing the view and her face turned to mine. 

“Mikey Way, I love you. Will you Bind with me?” she asked. My jaw dropped. So _this_ is what a proposal feels like for most girls. Oh great, did that make me the bitch?

“Huh?”

“Mikes, I don’t want to marry you, I want to Bind with you,” she said again, smiling like it was obvious. She saved so many smiles for me. I just stared at her confused. 

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

She shook her head. “Oh no,”

“Oh. Ok…”

She kept smiling. 

“Care to explain?”

“It’s asking a lot more than a simple marriage, but I want to take this between us further. I want you to experience everything this world has to offer, alongside me. I want to make this connection between us so strong only death could separate us,” she said – she’d been schooled by my famous older brother in romanticisms, it didn’t come to her naturally – “By Binding with me, you’d let me…bite you. You’d let me turn you into a werewolf, to run by my side, to be my mate,”

  
My bones shook at the very idea, my face open in shock. To be a werewolf like her! It was a terrifying idea. I could see the world like her, sensing everything, tasting the air and scenting emotions. I could transform, run in the night and by her side. We could be closer than ever before. She was right – it was far more than a marriage. 

“But…does it hurt?”

She shrugged. “Possibly, probably. I have to bite your neck, right down into the spinal column. I can’t bite too deep or I might do serious damage, I have to touch the bone,”

I shivered. “Sounds tricky,”

She shrugged. “It might be…I’ll be a werewolf too, a proper one. It has to be done under the moonlight at full moon,”

I felt panic then – “But you’ll be a proper werewolf then! One of those big aggressive monstrous ones you turn into!”

She nodded. “I know, sounds bad,”

“I don’t know Mags,”

“My Dad and Mom did it, and so many of my Dad’s relatives! My Grandpa was a Bitten too, and one of my Aunties,”

“I guess…but, it’s so much! I’ll be a wolf, like you! I’ll have to wear sunglasses and chain myself up at fullmoon like you do!”

She grinned. “And you’ll love every minute. There’s nothing like life as a werewolf, it’s like the colour grows deeper and the sounds and scents become more and more wonderful – I want you to sense it too!”

I looked away from her eyes and over the cityscape. It’d taken a lot of convincing to get Magenta to move into such an occupied area, such a urban mixing pot of clubs and buildings. She had to drive into the hills to run free, which she did only once a month, if not less. What about a younger wolf? I’d feel trapped, closed in, like her when we first moved here. 

But if she could cope, a bad tempered Pure Blood…couldn’t I?

“Mikey,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss my ear. “I love you. Bind with me,”

Slowly, my eyes shut, I nodded. The idea was too exciting to pass up. I was now Pre Bound, to the wolf of my dreams. 


	3. III

 

“Mikey, are you kidding?” asked Gerard when I told him. Magenta had left that particular little task to me, claiming brotherly bonding would result in less freaking out. Meanwhile, she and Frank were playing Dance Dance Revolution in the next room.

“No,” I said simply, smiling in an infuriatingly smug way. Gerard opened and closed his mouth several times, turned away and came back. 

“You’re…she’s…a werewolf?!”

I nodded. “Doesn’t sound that terrible, does it? You must’ve seen something like this coming!”

Gerard made an exasperated noise. “But you’ll be changed, you won’t be you anymore,” he said in a whiny voice. “You’ll be more like her, moody and odd and you’ll smell like her and growl and wear sunglasses and eat way too much meat,” 

I laughed. “That stuff’s all trivial, Ger! And I won’t go all mean and moody, Mags is like that because of the way she is, the way she was brought up,” I said, sitting down on the floor. Gerard was a bit uncomfortable in being in our nest, it smelt of sex and warm bodies, as well as not having anywhere to sit but the floor. He joined me after a short internal battle, which probably had to do with the idea that the room he and Frank shared was twice as bad.

“Mikey…she’s asking you a lot,” he said, looking me straight in the eye. I nodded, smiling. 

“I know. But…Gerard, I want this. I want to know what it’s like for her, how it feels. I want to be with her this way,” I said sincerely. Gerard still looked unhappy. 

“But…fuck, Mikes, this isn’t like getting married where it’s just a piece of paper, a ring or two and then being Mr and Mrs Way – this is life and death kinda stuff. She’d gotta bite you, in the neck, as a fucking werewolf! Only the strongest self willed wolf could stop themselves ripping someone to shreds at full moon,” he said, looking scared for me. I frowned. 

“Who told you that?”

He shrugged. 

“Look,” he said, pulling a piece of neon pink paper out of his pocket. I took it off him. It was one of those advertisements for a group, only instead of it being for single parents or heroin junkies; it was a werewolf support group. My eyebrows raised.

“’Hairy Helpers: The Werewolf Group’,” I read, my voice laden with scepticism. 

“They claim to be friends of werewolves, they offer places for full moon, financial support, anything for true werewolves,” said Gerard. “I went on their website and…it’s kinda culty. They practically worship werewolves, there’s this idea going that if you help a werewolf enough, you’ll be ‘blessed’ and turned into one,”

I shook my head and gave it back to him. “Bullshit, it’s just some fanatics, real werewolf supporters wouldn’t advertise,” I said harshly. I knew how Magenta would react to something like this. She’d bitch and swear and rave, but she wouldn't go anywhere near them. 

“But there was this bit on how to turn, and it’s correct, Mikey – it’s not that usual crap about scratching or passing on a virus, it had all the rules,” said Gerard, sounding worried. “Magenta in her true werewolf form, biting the back of your neck to the bone, and no further, it gave all this advice on tying up the werewolf and wiring it’s jaws in case something goes wrong –“

I waved that aside. 

“Fuck that, I’m not wiring my Mag’s jaws for anything. That’s for when they’re forcing the wolf to hand over the change, if they have managed it,” I scoffed. “Magenta chose to offer it to me, she loves me, she won’t need to be restrained,” I said firmly. Gerard sighed. 

“Ok, you seem sure…It won’t stop me worrying though, Mikes,” he said softly. “It’s a big change, are you sure you’ll be able to manage it?” he asked. I nodded. 

“Yes. I’m prepared for it,”

Gerard didn’t look convinced.  

“God, Mikes, are you sure? It’s huge! You’ll be a wolf! You’ll…you won’t be my little brother anymore, you’ll be some grown up dude with a sort-of wife and you’ll be a werewolf and you’ll probably have cubs and –“

“Whoa, dude, slow down, no one said anything about cubs yet!” I said quickly. Gerard chuckled, despite his fretting. 

“Oh God Mikes…I’m scared for you, ok? You get that?” he asked. I nodded, smiling.

“Relax, Ger, I know,” I said, pulling him into a hug. “But I need you to support me, because to be perfectly honest, I’m shit scared too,”

“Then don’t do it! Continue like you are!” he begged. “Stay human!”

But he could tell from the way I shook my head, the smile on my face and the glint in my eyes I wouldn’t. “Sorry, Ger…but I love her. And I’m gonna be with her,”

“Urgh. Fine then! Don’t complain to me when you get hairballs,”


	4. IV

Later that night, Magenta and I lay entwined in each other’s embrace. We were both sweaty, expiring from heat, and exhausted. I saw the flaming red of Mag’s eyes open lazily and saw the soft glimmer of white as she smiled at me. I loved her private smiles, the ones she saved for me. Our bodies were worn through from another night’s passion, only this time it had been even more exhausting and beautiful – now we were pre-Bound and life seemed so much more exciting. 

I leaned forward to kiss her again, my swollen lips complaining as I relaxed into our nest. 

“I can’t believe you said yes,” she smiled, snuggling closer to me and resting our foreheads together. 

“What do you mean? Of course I would,” I chuckled. Magenta shrugged, yawning and stretching her spine like a dog in the heat of summer. 

“It’s funny…everytime I look at you, I remember how proper and firm you used to be – you refused to believe I was a wolf for so long! I remember all your romantic gestures and how they always backfire because I hate that kinda stuff…and yet, here’s me, asking you to do the most unformal thing ever and you said yes! Right after I laughed at your marriage proposal!” she giggled. I hmphed, smirking. 

“I’d like it if we never mention that again,”

She laughed louder and wound her arms harder around me. “If it helps, I’d love to marry you,”

I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Cept we’re being Bound and that’s way cooler,”

I laughed at that, she was so easy to talk to like this. In public she became her usual moody, bitchy attitude. But, when it was just us, she became giggly and sweet and silly. It was like she became the teenager she should have been when we met. 

“Do you think it’ll hurt?” I asked a few minutes later. Her eyes flickered open again. 

“The turning? Not sure…I guess it will on one level, I mean, I’ll be biting you…” she sighed, moving to resting her chin on my chest, her body on top of mine. I held her steady, looking up at the ceiling swathed in darkness. It was sometime between midnight and 3.  

“But maybe it’ll be a rush…maybe it’ll excite you,” she shrugged. “You do like it when I bite you,”

I grinned. “Yeah, but that’s when your teeth aren’t used to ripping out throats and tearing muscle apart,”

“Oh, baby,” growled Magenta, giggling. “You’re turning me on here,”

I laughed and pushed her off me as her teeth nibbled on my chest. I followed her over, rolling so I was sitting on top of her, pulling her wrists up over her head. 

“Bite your tongue, baby. Tell me more about this Binding,” I demanded, pinning her. She raised her face as close as she could to mine, her tongue tip tracing over the bump of my lips but no closer. She hmphed. 

“Two weeks until full moon. We’ll drive out to the mountains before hand, have us a little fun, and when the moon rises…well, you can guess,” she smiled, wriggling slowly under me, trying to make me forget my curiosity and kiss her again. But there are times I’m more stubborn than her. 

“You turn, and then what?” I grinned, licking my lips. She rolled her eyes. 

“I guess…I come to you, I bite you, Bind you to me and you turn as well,”

“So, I turn straight away?” I checked. Magenta shrugged and nodded at the same time. 

“I’m not sure, but I think so. It’ll be the first night of full moon, so probably. Then we’ll have three days to run wild together,” she grinned, the idea making her blood dance across her body, her limbs flexing under mine. “I can teach you everything about your new existence,”

“New existence…” I echoed, biting my lip. Suddenly mirroring Gerard’s thoughts, I rolled off my lover and sighed, rubbing my eyes. “I’ll be someone different,”

I felt Magenta shift next to me, moving to touch the side of my face. 

“No, you won’t. You’ll still be my Mikey, you’ll still be you. Only, there’ll be more to you, another life, a backdoor to human,”

“I love the way your metaphors make me think of anal sex,”

“You better be thinking of your brother and Frank, Mr Way, and not _me_ ,”

“Oh God, now I am and I want to throw myself out the window,”

“Can we have sex again before you do?”

“Well…ok, sure,”

Round Three ended in more sweating, more heat and more exhaustion. And some more questions. 

“Are you gonna be ok with another wolf in the house?” I asked as Magenta shook her dreadlocks free of our sticky limbs. She cocked her head at that. 

“Good question. Which one of us will be alpha, do you think?” she smiled. “I mean, I’m a far more aggressive person, but a sedate wolf most nights. You’re a calm person, so you might be a more aggressive wolf…” she shrugged. “We’ll have to see. Things like that are easier in wolf logic,”

“Wolves think differently?”

She nodded. “Of course. It’s all about instinct, nature written rules. Food, hunt, hierarchy, scent, the chase, mate, cubs – everything’s part of nature’s code for a wolf,”

“Will I have to learn it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I always knew it, so maybe it comes with the shape,” she mused. “Anyway, I’ll be there to teach you. You’ll be amazed the first time – everything will smell divine, everything will taste or feel brand new, you will feel _everything_ ,” she grinned. “The power of your new body, the full appeal of the world…oh, fuck you, I wish I could be doing this for the first time too,”

I laughed. “From meaningful poet to stinking punk, lovely,”

Magenta hmphed. “You’re lucky I like your face the way it is or I’d deck you for that,”

“Did I ever tell you threatening me only turned me on?”

There was a short silence as Mags stared at me. 

“I fear you,”

I laughed and rolled onto my side, facing her again. Her hands moved to stroke back my hair, her smile uninhibited for once. 

“When you turn…does it hurt?”

She shrugged. “Yes and no. I’ve told you it’s like as you turn you begin to feel like your skin isn’t yours anymore and you’ve got to break free,” she said. I nodded. 

“I believe you used the term ‘a bag of skin’ and something to do with ropes,”

“Yeah, well, it feels normal as you do it. You’ll get itchy and uncomfortable as the hair prickles and you’ll just tear free – trust me, you can manage it,”

I felt sick. “I don’t wanna rip through my skin, Mags…”

She kissed me gently. “It helps in the first few changes to focus on the internal part of you than the external part,” She put a hand to her chest “You stay whole here, but you shed the rest. If you keep your focus steady, you won’t even have to think about your old skin,”

Something occurred to me then. “Hey…your wounds heal when you shed a skin, don’t they?”

She nodded. “Open wounds peel away with the layers of skin – the more you shed, the shallower the wound becomes with each shed,”

“But you still have scars…and your tattoos,”

“I’m covered in scars, Mikey, most you can’t see but you can feel. Try,”

I ran a hand down her arm, feeling nothing at first. I followed the curves of her side and hip, pressing my palm into the warm swells of her body. Then I realised what she meant. I could almost feel the subtle harden twists of scars on her legs and hip. I moved up again, feeling the scar tissue. It was barely noticeable, the slight change of density in her skin. They left no marks, except for a few on her face. I touched them softly. Her eyes glowed at me, and I saw the red shimmer with a hint of a golden jagged band inside it – the love light as she called it. I only saw it at night, when she was completely at ease. 

“What about these? Why don’t they hide?”

She shrugged. “Other scars on my face have…but these are all cuts and wounds I earned as a human, in fights, in drunken adventures,” she told me softly, touching the white line under her eye, across her eyebrow, under her lip. “As for tattoos…mystical symbols – they won’t fade,”

I snorted. “Werewolves is one thing, but magic?”

“I never said magic,” she said sharply. “I said mystical. Symbols like the sun and the moon and the little dragon have been prominent throughout centuries, in the old ways of life. Aztecs, American Indians, Chinese history – even Egyptians had immortal and mystical symbols from power hidden with human form, for the sun and the moon’s hold over humans…stop looking like that,” she growled, her hackles rising (metaphorically). I shook my head. 

“Calm down, I’m allowed to be sceptical, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong,” I chuckled, rubbing her in the spot on the back of her neck which made her melt. She both grunted and sighed, letting her head rest of the nest of cloth and closed her eyes as I tickled her softly. 

“So, if you need those to control your wolfiness, where am I gonna get some?” I asked, tinkling the two bracelets woven around her wrists. The black thread stood out against her white skin, the rainbow glass beads glimmering in the light. On her left, the bracelet had a small silver sun, and on her right, a small silver crescent moon. The charm hanging above our bed – the protective charm she’d made me years ago, held the same two silver charms. 

“I can make you the bracelets easily enough…although whether you’ll need them I’m not sure – I use them to help control my temper, and Bitten’s don’t have the same temper problems as Pure Bloods,”

“What about the tats? I don’t need them, do I?” The idea of needles freaked me out. Magenta shook her head. 

“Not sure, all the wolves I knew have it. No one ever mentioned why, but I guess it's important for something.  I love it because I’m proud of my roots. Any wolf I meet, which I haven’t yet, would recognise it and understand. It’s like tattooing your flag on your arm,” she shrugged. “And as for the scorpion, I just like em,” she chuckled. I grinned and leaned over to kiss and suck gently on the skin of her neck, where the twisted scorpion hid under her thick locks. 

“Me too,” I smiled. 

I looked at the Little Dragon in its Egg on her chest, the symbol standing out easily in the dark. I bit my lip as I thought of that Hairy Helpers group. I wondered if they’d recognise her tattoo. 

I smirked and shook my head. Nah – no chance. 


	5. V

Handful of years ago, I was a completely different person. 

I gossiped, I bitched. I had four hour phone conversations. I had more female friends than male friends. I wore clean, fashionable trousers and polo necks, designer t shirts, carefully constructed outfits which I always had to check with Kim, my old ex best friend, to make sure we didn’t clash. 

Now I lived in a shitty three room apartment in a shitty part of town, with shitty graffiti on the walls, shitty electricity supplies, and shitty other residents. I had four hour conversations about the afterlife and politics with my brother and his boyfriend and my girlfriend and all our new friends. I wore dirty jeans with holes in them, I wore horror movie t shirts and punk rock t shirts because all I listened to now was punk rock, old rock and blues. I slept in a nest of cloths and clothes and drapes with a girl who I loved so much, there weren’t words for it – fuck the pussy pop love songs on the radio. 

I loved my life now, it had substance, it had depth. I felt happy now. 

I had a girlfriend I loved more than anything who defied life’s boundaries. I had my brother and my best friend, his boyfriend. I had my comic book reading afro haired partner Ray. I went to clubs and drank all sorts of weird alcoholic drinks and did drugs with my girl. We had all sorts of arty, theatre, singer, dancer, hippy, raver friends. 

I was sitting on our cracked leather couch, the one we pulled out of a skip. My legs were curled under me and I had Bouncing Souls blasting out the windows just so I didn’t have to listen to the prostitute’s kid next door crying. She got us to baby-sit in the evenings sometimes – something Mags hated. It meant we had to wait until the girl was done before we could go to bed, and Mags hated the way the baby stared at her. 

“Like it can smell my fur,” she said once. 

I was holding a photo album Gerard had made for Mags the year before, and alone. I was thinking about life, my life. I loved it, I had everything I could ever want or need. Even the fact I had hardly any money and worked as a shelf stacker in the bookstore was fine. 

I looked back through the photo album, wondering how much would change if I did. 

There were baby photos, a few of Magenta’s family I had found when helping her clear out her van. There were loads and loads of her and Gerard and Frank, from the early days of their friendship when they had a camera and a lot of free time in Gerard’s room. I laughed as I saw the ones of Gerard and Frank trying to pin Magenta down and the next few showing Magenta sitting on top of them, looking smug. 

There were pictures of her and Ray curled up on the couch, fast asleep with popcorn stuck in their hair. 

There were some from the paint-balling trip we took a few summers ago, and plenty from festivals and concerts. I had a brilliant one of Mags and me dressed in grass skirts, coconut bras and covered in tribal paint and flower necklaces – and we were pissed as newts. 

There were a few of Gerard and Magenta spray painting her van again, redoing it just before she left for the big two year heart wrench. There was a gorgeous one of Magenta will an airbrush gun. She was wearing a tiny strappy and some big baggy jeans with the knees ripped out and covered in oil stains. There were oil stains on her arms and sides, and you could see her flat, muscled stomach, her strong shoulders. She was bending over, spraying something at waist level and biting her lip in such a sexy way. There was a streak of black paint down her cheek and her sunglasses were pushed back so she could see, her hair was pulled back into a big thick ponytail, the dreadlocks sticking out in stupid directions and tickling her waist. 

It was one of the sexiest pictures of her I had, and I had a lot. 

There were birthdays, clubs, new year’s, firework nights, drunken bonfires, raves, parties, camping trips, just photo after photo – all with us smiling and laughing. 

If Mags could do it, I reasoned, so could I. 

In nearly every picture she had her sunglasses on, those trademark black lens flashing with the retinas of her true nature. I could do it. I was sure. 

I put the photo album down and sighed happily – I was so glad no one was there to see the big sappy smile on my face. 

I got up to put the photo album back on the shelf and noticed something out of the corner of my eye – that poster Gerard dragged out of nowhere caught my eye. I’d screwed it up and thrown it in the general direction of the bin and missed – the disgusting pink colour made me want to gag. 

Hairy Helpers. 

What a ridiculous idea. 

I had to get rid of that before Mags saw it. I grabbed it and shoved it in my back pocket, pulling my jeans further up my arse. Magenta hated the fact I was skinnier than her, but I couldn’t help it – I was a rake! I grabbed my bag with my money and keys in it, and turned the stereo off. 

On my way downstairs to get supplies for the weekend – drinking fest to celebrate upcoming Binding – I ran into my Bound girl. 

“Mikey!” she called as I made to jump down the first flight of stairs. I jumped back and saw her standing in the doorway of a nice old neighbour of ours – most likely buying weed off him. 

“Hey babe,” I grinned, going over to give her a kiss. Magenta has no problems with showing intimacy with me, in fact she takes pride in showing everyone how horny we are, she went for a full on kiss as our neighbour whistled low and long. When I came up for air, I was pink in the face. 

“Bloody hell, fiancées are the worst!” he laughed, clapping a hand to my shoulder. “Congratulations, son! I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said, ushering us out of his door and shutting it. As soon as it was, Magenta grabbed me and pushed me against the opposite wall, giving me another amazing kiss. 

“I’ve missed you,” she purred. I laughed, stroking back her hair and taking a firm hold on her waist, smiling widely as her hands moved down to squeeze my arse. “I’ve missed this arse too – you should wear tighter jeans around the house,” she decided. 

“Just for my benefit, of course,” she added. 

I laughed. “But not for my balls sake, apparently,” I grinned, giving her another kiss. She purred again. 

“I’ve missed those too – only saw them couple hours ago,” she pouted. “Withdrawal symptoms,”

I caught her hand as she tried to go adventuring under my boxers. 

“Babe, we’re in a hallway!”

“Don’t care,” she said firmly, jamming a leg between mine and rubbing up towards my crotch. I kissed her again and picked her up by the waist, putting her back a step. 

“Down girl! I’ve got things to see, people to do,” I grinned. Magenta shook her head, disappointed. 

“You suck. Bye,” she smiled, giving me another kiss and stomping up the steps to our top floor flat. I watched her go – she has an amazing arse. 

Outside, it was cool and breezy and I wrapped my jacket closer around my body, digging my hands into the pockets and smiling indulgently as I thought of my girl. 

I turned a corner and something violent and pink caught my eyes. 

Hairy Helpers. 

What was it about them that irked me so much? They can’t know werewolves exist, or they’d be sworn into secrecy like the rest of us and belt up before we got shut up. But then why go to some much length?

My curiosity was too much to bear – I had to make sure they weren’t a threat. I went to the nearest payphone and dialled. 

“Hello, Hairy Helpers?”

“Hi, I want to know more information about what you’re offering,” I said cautiously. 

“Well, you can check our website or go along to the community group every Friday,”

It was Thursday. 

“I can’t use the internet,” It was true, we didn’t have a computer yet “So where’s the community group?”

The voice on the other end gave me the address. I knew it wasn’t the wisest idea I’d ever had, but I had to be sure. Mags would never, ever agree and I wouldn’t let her near them anyway. One look at her eyes and that was it. Gerard would ask all the questions and Frank wasn’t good under pressure, and I knew I’d never convince Ray. 

If what if it was true? What if they were a werewolf support group, and had real members within their ranks? Gerard told me they were culty, that they were humans who wanted to be turned, and believed they would be if they did enough. Was there an underground werewolf community we knew nothing about?

I sighed. There was only one way to find out. 

I was going to that meeting. 

 


	6. VI

The next evening, I got dressed (Mags doesn’t believe in clothing when alone), and told her I was going out to the pub and I’d be back at some point. She seemed pretty happy because it meant she could wolf out in our apartment without having to worry me. 

I kissed her goodbye and left the building, avoiding the kids who were smashing the lights in the hallway with a baseball bat. I checked my watch and saw I had ten minutes for a fifteen minute walk. The streets were dark and chilly, the sun hadn’t come out today and the darkness only banished the scarce warmth more. 

I walked quickly, keeping my head down and keeping my ears open. I’ve been mugged once too often on my own and it helps to look busy and move fast. Puddles splashed around my feet and the dim evening lights hardly lit the streets at all. 

The Hairy Helpers community group was in an even shittier part of town and the only way I recognised the place was the faded board over the top, plastered with overlapping pink posters. There were two blokes standing outside, one huge and the other titchy in comparison. 

I moved towards them with unease. I didn’t like the look of it. 

“Can we help you?” asked the hulk as I reached the door and slowed. Both of them wore sunglasses, despite the darkness. But I could tell, quite easily, that they had human eyes. 

I pulled out the poster I had. “I’m here for the meeting,”

“You’re late,” said the smaller man, who was still pretty big. His neck was as thick as my thigh. “We don’t like people arriving too late,”

I shrugged. “Tough shit, I’m here,”

The huge one cracked a knuckle but his friend smiled and waved a hand. “Be my guest, welcome,”

I nodded my thanks and slipped past them, into the doorway and up the shitty stairs. Reaching the top, I followed the passageway to the only door with light coming from its outline and opened it. 

“Ah! A newcomer!” called a voice as I peeked my head around. The room was wide, open and bare. There were a handful of people in there, sitting in a circle of chairs. The only decoration in the entire room was it’s walls. They were covered in pictures and posters and paintings. Of werewolves. 

I could see the poster for werewolf movies like Ginger Snaps and Blood and Chocolate, even a cheesy Van Helsing blow up of the werewolf. It was creepy. On the far wall, it seemed to be made of photographs. 

My attention was drawn by a small woman walking towards me. She was tiny, at least a foot shorter than me, and withered. Her skin was nut brown and had so many lines she resembled a tree. Her face was filled with a smile and her eyes twinkled. “Hello, dear, I’m Susan, are you here for Hairy Helpers?”

I nodded, feeling the group’s eyes on me. There was a man standing in the middle of the circle, obviously the leader. He had a cold gaze. 

“Are you a wolf, or a helper?”

I shrugged. “I just wanna know what you guys are about, but probably a helper,” I said, knowing that was probably something they’d accept. Susan smiled again and ushered me into the circle, letting me plonk down on a spare chair. 

“Everyone, say hello to…”

The leader spoke in a soft voice, trying to command power in it. He lacked discipline, he didn’t hold the stage well. I coughed. 

“Um, I’m Max,”

Best I could come up with on short notice. 

“Max, a possible addition to our family. Let’s make him feel welcome,”

“Hi, Max,” everyone chorused. I looked around, everyone here looked odd. Mostly young, but a few older ones. Everyone dressed in black, so I pretty much fit in. They all held sunglasses in their hands, as if they’d taken them off just for this evening. 

I glanced at the person next to me and jumped – she was looking at me with red eyes. But I instantly relaxed, they were contacts. She still had the whites of her eyes and the regular circles. I remember Magenta’s jagged lines of her eyes and wished I hadn’t come. 

“What can we do for you Max? Want do you wish to learn?” asked their leader. He had a name tag – for shame – which read Ashe. You had to be kidding me…

I cleared my throat. 

“I just…I wanna know what your group does, what you’re about,” I shrugged. “I’ve always been interested in werewolves,” I said, fighting to keep the stammer out of my voice. Years of living with Magenta taught me an excellent bluff and a good sense of subtlety. All along with a good sense of fear, as well as when not to listen to it. 

Ashe smiled. 

“This group is based on the belief that our Lycan others walk among us at all times, in the streets next to us, in the coffee shops and school and churches. They stalk the streets at night in their wolf forms, slipping through the shadows,”

This guy was terrible. 

Seriously. 

“We are the ones to aspire to be like them – to be one of them. To earn our place, we offer everything to them,”

“Everything?” I echoed, raising my eyebrows. There was a series of nods around the circle. 

“If a Lycan needs money, food, a place to stay, a place to turn – everyone here has offered their lives to help the Lycan others,”  

He turned to look at me squarely. I tried not to smirk, all I could hear was Magenta’s sarcastic comments in my head. 

“Do you believe in Lycans?” asked Ashe. I nodded quickly, feeling showing doubt would mean more corny lines and indignant looks.

“Do you know any?” asked Susan, almost breathlessly. She sounded very excited. I shook my head, sighing. 

“No, I’m sorry. Do you?” I asked, trying to mirror her excitement and looking around at the group. From the stormy expressions, I guessed not. While inside I breathed a huge sigh of relief, I turned it into a disappointed moan. 

Ashe’s smile caught my attention. 

“Why the group hasn’t secured the attentions of any true Lycans as of yet-“ as of yet? Who the hell says as of yet anymore? This isn’t Anne Rice, honey pie. “But we have located a selection of individuals we believe may be among the Lycan ranks,”

That can’t be good. My expression must’ve shown interest, because he kept talking. If it hadn’t, he must just like the sound of his own voice.  

“Over there,” he pointed, towards the wall of photographs. I felt the back of my neck heat up, and I began to rise from my chair. “Wait, Max,”

I almost didn’t react to my ‘name’. “Huh?”

Ashe fixed me in a stare, trying to look menacing and managing to make me want to laugh. “Are you willing to sign over your life to us? Are you willing to aid the Lycans in any way they require, and hope to become one of them?”

Have I said it before? This guy was _bad_.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure yet, but probably,” I said, standing up and moving to go look at the wall of photographs. I heard whispers break out, angry muttering. I could feel the circle’s eyes on me, the mistrust. I tried to look as excited as possible, like them, as I scanned the wall. 

Everyone in the photographs was wearing a sunglass, that was the first hint of something off. But then again, they were all in sunlight, so that might’ve had something to do with it. Most were male, so I skimmed over them, looking for my dreadlocked missus. It was a huge wall though, and I couldn’t study the entire thing gracefully, so I skimmed as fast as I could. 

“Max?”

I jumped as Susan touched my elbow. She beamed at me. “Are you alright?”

I smiled and nodded, glancing back at the wall. I’d seen one of the guys in one of the photos, he had a mark on his bare chest. It was too blurry to make it out though. 

“Yeah, I’m fine – just looking,”

Susan smiled and nodded. “We spent months collecting those, all of potentials. None of them responded to our hails though,”

What was this, Star Trek?

“You’ve tried to contact all these people?” I asked, gesturing to the whole wall. She nodded. 

“Not every photo is a different person,” she said quickly. “Our photographer’s just love taking photos though,”

How creepy. 

“Cool,”

Susan smiled again and led me back to the circle. I decided it was time to leave. It took fifteen minutes of careful answers and promises of returning with full belief that I was allowed to get the fuck out of there. 

Walking away, I flipped my collar up against the cool evening fog and walked quickly. That had been creepy, in an over the top way. When people are that crazy, and led by someone who wished they’d stepped out of a bad 17 th century novella, they could potentially be dangerous. There was something definitely off about them…

I glanced over my shoulder as I turned out of their street, and I swear to God, someone had been watching me from their window. As long as they didn’t take a photo and stuck it on their freaky wall, that’s fine. 

I knew Mags would be wolfed out, and expecting me out until at least 11, so I pulled out my mobile and rang up the guys, telling them to meet me down the pub. 


	7. VII

“Whatddya mean, it’s notsa problem? They’re crazy!” I slurred, attempting to pick up the pint in front of me but finding the art of lifting it and aiming it at my face rather too difficult…

Ray shook his head as me, leaning heavily on the sticky bar tabletop. 

“No, no, no! Iz not a _big_ problem!” 

Round 6 or 7 usually resulted in some interesting ways of pronouncing things. I blinked heavily, finding Ray’s face rather hard to focus on…hey, my glasses were in my drink!

“They’re juz freaks!” Ray was telling me, as I attempted to place them on my nose. The extra blurriness was solved when I got beer in my eyes…

“But wot if they find out bout –“

“Shhh!” shushed Ray, leaning over to cover my mouth with a coaster. “Frank’s sleepin!”

I looked. 

“No, he’s not, he’s juz mid silent orgasm, Gerard’s hands unda table…”

Gerard smiled indulgently just as Frank opened his eyes, all sparkly and dazed, and smiled innocently. “I gotta go bathroom!”

Ray and I swapped unsurprised/drunk looks as Frank wriggled free of the booth, kissed Gerard sloppily and swayed off to the bathroom. Gerard turned back to look at us, ‘discreetly’ wiping his hand on the sofa. 

“Shame,” slurred Ray. I nodded. 

“Mags would so be at yoo for the smell after that,” I agreed, shaking my head and feeling my glasses fall off again. 

About an hour later, and a pitcher of cocktails, we all decided to go home. Frank and Gerard collapsed into a cab and overpaid the driver ridiculously to not complain about them making out in the backseat. Ray left with a chick with blue dreads, who just walked into the bar and instantly went for him. And I left with…well, me.

Yay!

By the time I got home, I was feeling incredibly tired. My eyelids were dragging and I’d tripped more than once on the uneven, creaky stairs. I walked into my front door, slamming my face into it and then knocking. 

“Magsss?” I slurred. “You ok in dere?”

There was the sound of movement, and some canine whining and then a soft bark. She was letting me in. I knew, and she did too, that she would never hurt me in her wolf form when it wasn’t full moon. I unlocked the door and edged in, trying not to knock anything over in the darkness. 

The half, hazy moonlight filtered lazily through the net drape curtains we hung in the living room, they lit odd patches of our lives together. The arm of the couch, the stack of unopened mail, a lamp shaped like a naked Frank (thanks Gerard). But, in the darkness, everything was transformed. The long, overlapping drapes and wall hangings and tapestries turned into leaves and foliage, dappled with shades and tiny shimmers of light from their beads. The couch became a bank of earth, smelling of animal skin. The mail and the table and the lamp and everything just became part of Magenta’s night time wood. 

A movement caught the corner of my eye, a shape slinking in the shadows. Against the sill of the window, I saw a waist high ridge of dreadlocked fur walk languidly in front of it, the moonlight colouring her back silver briefly. Her eyes turned towards me and she gave a low whine of welcome. 

I hiccupped and dropped to my knees, smiling. I was so drunk, I’d left even residual fear at the door. 

“Hey baby,” I slurred, swaying dangerously and leaning heavily on the arm of an old twisted oak tree (the coffee table). She gave another gruff whine and moved towards me, winding her lithe, wolf body in the shadows. I felt her muzzle press against my hands, the hot pants of her breath against my skin. I could just about smell the blood of her old girl skin on her breath, rich and metallic. I knelt down until I was rubbing my face alongside hers, hearing the pleasured deep rumble in her throat. 

My fingers delved into her matted neck fur, the dreadlocks of her girl form still interwoven into her thick black fur, grazing my palms as I caressed her scruff. I moved them down her back, feeling the strong muscles flexing under my hands, the smooth, sleek hair on her back and sides. Her tail thumped against the couch, her eyes glowing with gold and red. 

“Good Mags…” I grinned, lying down on the living room floor and pulling her closer to me, her canine form collapsing next to me. “Beautiful Mags…”

She gave a grumbling moan, her tail still wagging. My fingers found the soft, warm downy fur of her stomach and tickled her until she squirmed, giving an excitable bark. 

She flipped back onto her feet and cuffed the top of my head with her tail, before slinking off. 

I laughed drunkenly to myself and forced myself onto my knees, stumbling towards to bedroom. I heard a low bark and shuffled until I saw Mags standing in the doorway, holding a dogs bowl full of water in her mouth, for my hangover. I laughed. 

“Mags, I wuv yoo…but ama not drinkin’ from that tonight,” I laughed, collapsing face first into a pile of cushions. The nest smelt of her, and us. Her fur and her hair, her old girl skin and her new wolf one. 

Soon, it’d be the joined scents of both of us. 

I felt myself slipping into heavy sleep, and noticed the heavy was actually Magenta coming to sit on top of me, her paws stretched over my head and her muzzle fitting into the space by my neck. 

She gave another low whine, her body rumbling with pleasure. 

“I love you too…” I moaned, falling asleep. 

 

At about 4 in the morning, roughly dawn, I woke up when Magenta got up off me and moved into the living room, to shed her wolf skin with the rising sun. I rolled onto my back and moaned, she’d left a dent in my back from lying on me. 

When she came back, she was herself again, fully human, curvy and thoroughly hot. She was wet from a shower and her dreads dripped fat dollops of water onto the nest. She smiled at me and went to lie down next to me, a purr vibrating her throat. Her eyes were still tinged with the ‘love light’. 

“Morning,” she sighed, sketching and rolling bones in her new skeleton. I groaned, yawning. 

“Not yet…too early,” I complained, closing my eyes, pulling her close to me and trying to slip back into sleep. I heard her laugh and comment how convenient it was we lived on top of a butchers, she could dump our skins in the dumpster without people noticing. 

I grunted in agreement and found her neck with my lips, nuzzling her skin. She still smelt wild. 

“I can’t wait to be a wolf with you…” I sighed, my hangover still waiting to hit. 

“Good,” she grunted, rolling us over in more covers. “Now be quiet and sleep,”

There goes hopes of being the alpha male. 


	8. VIII

A week later and preparations were well underway. 

We’d stocked out the van again, for a nice fat weekend in the woods. It was like a honeymoon, the way Mags wanted it. In the night, we’d run like the wolves we were, howling to the moon and feasting on the wildlife we brought down. Blood and water, the moonlight on our backs and the earth beneath our paws. But, during the day, it’d be like any other horny camping trip. 

So we prepared, with only a week until full moon. Every night, when the moon rose, I could feel the hairs prickle on my body, seeing it become fuller and fatter like a pregnant stomach. A smile would come to my face, a deep, thrilling excitement. 

We had extra blankets and cushions in the van, setting it up as the most comfortable love nest we could. We had alcohol and various drugs for the days to go faster and the nights a little crazier. We had gas and a brand new cooker, as well as a new alarm in case someone got too close to the van when we were sleeping or…y’know. 

Five days before we were due to set off, music blaring and windows down, Magenta conceded and gave into me. I asked her to meet me at City Hall, along with Gerard, and that’s where I stood now, dressed in simple black and holding a rose behind my back. Magenta usually hated roses, which was why I made sure this one was dead and pitch black. 

I sighed to myself, she and Gerard were five minutes late already and the weather looked sour. The clouds had gathered and blocked out any hope of sunlight, and there was a definite threat of rain. I groaned and looked around for the millionth time for my werewolf and my brother. 

“Max?”

I didn’t react to the name at first, until someone touched my shoulder. I jumped and turned, managing not to crush the rose. It was Ashe, sunglasses in tow and dressed in a smart, old style black suit. He wore a blood red shirt, tied at the collar and sleeves, a velvet waistcoat and a blazer. He lifted his sunglasses and smiled. 

“Oh, hi,” I said, confused at seeing him somewhere so public. He looked downright shifty. 

“You seemed far away just then,” he commented. I shrugged, fighting the temptation to look around again. 

“My friends are meeting me here,” I said. “I was just looking out for them,” I explained quickly. Ashe’s smiled grew. 

“You look very smart,”

Yeah, and you look like you stepped out of a bad Edgar Allen Poe tribute play. 

“Thanks,” I smiled back, fighting the temptation to tell him I was getting married. Ashe stared at me for a while, as if sizing me up. 

“You missed last night’s meeting,” he said, cocking his head to the side as if telling off a small child in the nicest possible way. I shrugged again, glancing around from him to check for Magenta again. 

“Sorry, but I’ve been really busy lately, I couldn’t make it,” I said. I’d spent all of last night watching horror movies with Mags and Ray, throwing popcorn around during the boring plot bits and subtly feeling her up when I was sure Ray was engrossed in the screen. 

Ashe nodded like he understood, which I really hoped he didn’t. 

“I hope to see you back next week then, it is always good to meet a believer,” he said, trying to pull of solemn and managing constipated. 

I forced a smile. “Yeah, I know what you mean, but I gotta be honest with you, I don’t think I’ll be coming back,”

Ashe frowned and lifted his sunglasses, two dull brown eyes looking straight into mine. “Any reason, Max?”

I shook my head. “Nothing against the group, but I don’t have enough time to spend my evenings sitting in a circle and talking about werewolves. Sure, I believe, and sure if a Lycan needs me, I’m there, but I don’t need a newsletter,” I said, hoping he’d give up on me, labelling me as flippant and not worth the effort. 

It was just at that moment, as Ashe opened his mouth to contradict me, that Gerard and my little minx appeared. Magenta, in her usual post-Gerard-shopping hyperactivity, decided to leap onto my back rather than poke me. 

“RAWR!” she cried, winding her arms around my neck and slamming into me so hard from behind I almost crashed into Ashe’s red satin chest. 

“Hey, you gotta crazy girl on your back,” pointed out Gerard, appearing on my other side as I compensated for Mag’s weight and hooked my arms under her legs which were already around my waist. 

“I noticed, hey baby,” I said, not noticing Ashe hadn’t left. I let her slide down and turned to look at her properly. She gave me a big kiss first, stealing my breath away and making Gerard pretend to gag next to us. 

“Uh! Heterosexual love is so disgusting!” 

Magenta let me up for air and cocked a grin at me. “Hiya. That for me?” she asked, snatching the rose off me. I nodded, looking at what she was wearing. 

“Babe, this is a rose,” she said. 

“I know,”

Her eyebrows raised under her sunglasses. “Have you magically forgotten I hate mushy crap?”

“It’s not mushy, it’s just a black rose. Deal with it,”

She hmphed and cracked the stem, before tucking the rose into her dreadlocks, which she’d pulled back into a sort of exploding Mohawk along the centre of her skull with a huge rainbow beaded clip. 

I looked at Gerard, and then back at Mags. “Seriously, babe, didn’t you even try? Look at Gerard, even the monkey polished up nice!”

“Hey!”  

Mags gave me another smirk and looked down at her shredded blue jeans and tight black top with the offensive logo. She was showing several inches of flat, pierced belly button and plenty of cleavage. Her jeans were pretty low too, there was at least an inch of coloured red boxers proclaiming ‘I love boys pants!’. Her arms were covered in fishnet arm bands and a heavy assortment of jewellery. “What? This is so smart!”

I raised my eyebrow. “In some countries, maybe, but here? For now?” I asked her. 

She shrugged, frowning. “I look fine for this, isn’t not that big a deal,”

“It is to me,” I said. “Just thought maybe wearing at least _some_ white would be nice,”

Gerard snorted. “Oh please, white? The girls got about sixty condoms in her bag – the jig is up!”

Mags and I shot Gerard poisonous looks. She looked back at me and threw out her hands. “Whatdya want me to do? I don’t own any white!”

I opened to complain when Gerard smacked me in the face with a carrier bag with a box inside. 

“Shut up before she punches you and you get this done with a black eye, we went shopping remember?”

“And it isn’t fucking _white_ ,” she warned me, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around, shoving me towards the building, Gerard in tow. She pushed me straight into Ashe, who was _still_ there – the big fat stalker he was. 

“Fuck, sorry!” I said, backing up. Mags looked over my shoulder and frowned. 

“Who’s this?” she asked, suspiciously. She didn’t like new people, and particularly when they looked like such gimps. Ashe’s eyes were fixed on her. In particular, the tattoo inking her breast. 

“He’s no one, just someone I was talking to before you came, come on guys,” I said, avoiding Ashe’s eye and grabbing Mag’s hand, pulling her towards the building. 

“Where’s the fire?” demanded Gerard, hopping after us. 

“I want to get this done before Mags flips out,” I called, looking over my shoulder and seeing Ashe still standing there, watching us go through the double doors and away from him. 

 

I don’t think I could describe how I felt. It was like a sickening mixture of excitement, pride, anxiety and absolute, gut wrenching fear. I stood in the tiny little office, with Gerard behind me, fidgeting. It was fucking hot in here, and there was nothing interesting to look at as I waited for Mags to get ready and come in.  

“Wait til you see the dress we got, it’s fucking hot!” hissed Gerard in my ear, grinning. I smirked. 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind when I marry her, whenever that gets around to happening,” I muttered, checking the clock again. “What’s taking her?”

Gerard shrugged. “God knows. I bet you her and Frank are fussing around in the bathroom, arguing over make up or hair or something,”

I snorted. “Sounds about right, Frank cares more about that than she does and he’s still got two balls full of testosterone fighting for him,”

Gerard snorted with laughter. “At least he got you in ahead of the waiting list, thank your stars your brother’s dating the guy who does the timetable for this place,”

“Dating or sleeping with?”

“Both, simultaneously,”

“Oh, the imagery!”

“Well, here’s a good one for you, imagine Mags in a wedding dress shop, yelling at the woman that she didn’t want anything white, lacey, covered in bows, ribbons, flowers or beads,”

“Wow, that is entertaining…you took her to a wedding dress shop?”

“We didn’t know where else to go at first, neither of us are good at dress shopping…but she was determined,”

My heart swelled. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, you’d have be proud of her, she was determined to find a nice, decent dress for this, she knows how important this is to you,”

I flushed and grinned. “Wow…”

“And then I made her get the rest,”

“The rest?”

“The tights, the shoes, the underwear-“

“Stop there, I draw the line in having to listen to my gay brother tell me about taking my fiancée bra shopping on my wedding day,”

“It was thongs,”

“What did I just say?”

“I can’t believe you’re getting married!”

“I know, freaky, isn’t it?”

“Not so much, just impressive you managed to convince Magenta…”


	9. IX

There was a knock at the door, and the minister/admin guy – whatever he technically was – entered. He was an old man, slim and frail, with hands knotted with veins like ropes, but he held that little prayer book like a pro. He smiled at me. 

“I’m assured everything is really now,” he told me, advancing to shake my hand in a surprisingly firm grip. He shook Gerard’s hand as well and ran over the ceremony quickly. 

“Then you sign the register and toddle off to celebrate,”

“I like that part,” grinned Gerard. There was another knock at the door, and this time Frank stuck his head around. 

“We all good?”

I nodded, my chest suddenly feeling tighter and something hot exploding in my stomach. I felt Gerard clap my shoulders. 

“Here we go, little bro,”

Frank slowly opened the door and Magenta entered, walking with every inch of majesty she had, the power and beauty etched into her soul on show for once. She looked like no other bride I’d ever seen, or ever wanted to. She wore a dress of black chiffon, a darker red layer underneath. The back of the skirt reached the ground, but the front was drawn up to show her gorgeous legs, encased in black fishnet. I couldn't help but smirk at her blood red Doc Martins, but it was her hair that stole my breath. She never took any trouble over it, but today... it adorned with red and black ribbons, twisted into the mad dreads still dragged back by a new black clip. No wonder they’d taken so long, she looked simply stunning. 

“Wow…” I whispered, seeing her draw level with me, that black rose still tucked into her hair. She was smiling at me, one of those uncontrollable smiles she usually kept for private. 

“I know, don’t I look hot?” she smirked, half self conscious and half proud. Even Gerard looked blown away. As for me, there weren’t any words, she looked…magnificent. 

The bit part was when she reached up and took her sunglasses off, the full black of her eyes fixing on me, the dancing red in her eyes almost glowing. I heard Frank cough for the admin’s attention and whisper ‘contacts’. 

“Wow…” I said again, moving towards her and taking her hands in mine, unable to look away from her eyes, her amazing scarred face. She wasn’t beautiful, or angelic, but she was so unbelievably stunning that day…I could have stared at her naked eyes all day. There was a cough and I remembered what we were doing there. 

The ceremony went quickly, me with Gerard at my elbow and Magenta with Frank at hers, giving her away. We didn’t look away from each other the entire time, the admin’s words just flying past us, meaning little. Then it came down to it and it was everything I hoped, and so much better than I ever thought it could be. 

“Do you, Michael Way, take this woman to be your lawful wife? To have and to hold? To cherish and love? Through sickness and health, richer or poorer? Until death do you part?”

Until death. 

“I do,” I said, squeezing her fingers. She squeezed back and reached up to dash away a stubborn tear on my cheek. “No crying,” she whispered, smirking. “This is happy, remember?”

“Do you, Magenta Sharp, take this man to be your lawful husband?”

I stared into Magenta’s eyes as he intoned the vows. 

“To have and to hold,”

This was the moment she could throw back her head and laugh, bellow out her lungs. 

“To cherish and love, through sickness and health, richer or poorer,”

This was the crunch moment where she could either accept me fully, romantics and fluffiness aside, or regret the idea and just be her, the wolf, the punk. Not the wife. 

“Until death do you part?”

I held my breath. She could sense my fear. And she smiled, cocking a lopsided grin. 

“Until death,” she said gently. “I do,” louder. 

I felt everything turn to liquid fire inside me, unfreezing and a smile breaking out across my face. I held Gerard and Frank release sighs of relief and Magenta laughed. 

“You look so scared!” she laughed, shaking her head at me. I shrugged. 

“I remember what you did when I proposed,”

Magenta snorted and nodded to the admin. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,”

“Fuckin’ A,” she growled, and kissed me before he could say it, and she didn’t give me a chaste one either. Never had the inside of this hot, stuffy and dusty office seen such a kiss, a kiss of wild youth and insane love. 

I held Frank and Gerard both ‘aww’ quietly, moving to hold hands. 

“Ok, ok, enough!” cried Gerard after a while. “You’re making it steam up in here!”

“Yeah,” agreed Frank. “Enough soppy shit – let’s party!”

Magenta broke away from me and whooped, throwing her arms around my neck and letting me spin her around, all four of us laughing and cheering. 

“We did it!” I cried, still not believing it at I whirled her. 

“We’re married,” she laughed, like the idea still tickled her.  “We’re a married couple!”

“Yeah, you are, now fuck the romantics and lets party!” repeated Frank, hopping up and down in excitement. The next part just came in a blur of Gerard and Frank pulling and pushing us, hurrying in their childish glee, pulling me and Magenta like puppets on strings. Our hands were still entwined together, our bodies walking so close it was impossible to see how we wouldn’t trip each other up. Our faces were turned into each other, smiling eyes and lips seldom not touching. All I could see was her glowing irises from behind those sunglasses, the secret smile she wore inside just for me. 

They pulled us outside the building, through throngs of smartly dressed men and women, all who looked towards us, over their shoulders. Towards the couple dressed in poison red and black, glowing in dark light, faces alight with young love. Surrounded by two demons with angelic grins, decked out in black and red as well, darting around us with their white, wide faces flashing as they circled us, keeping the crowd away from us. A bubble of vibrancy.

They pull us out, our slow steps following them as we move outside, into the grey twilight, towards the subway. Every other colour seemed to drain away in the grey, just the brilliant red of us four. 

Even in the subway, it just fades away as Gerard and Frank dart around, doing their crazy little dances as we stand in the very centre of the car, dancing slowly to a waltz only we can hear, our faces so close it doesn’t matter if we’re kissing or not, it doesn’t look any different to anyone else. 

“Why are you so goddamn happy?” she asked me, twirling slowly with me, my hands on her tight waist. I shrugged. 

“It means a lot to me to marry you…it doesn’t mean anything to you, I know, but it does to me, and I love you for making this so special,”

She shook her mane. “I know what it means to you…and it means a lot to me to show you how much you mean to me,” she told me. “I’d marry you, even wear white for you, just to prove how much you mean to me,” 

I beamed at her, reaching up to stroke a stray dreadlock off the side of her scalp and threading it behind her ear. 

“I’ll never understand the way you think…”

She laughed. “You don’t need to. The way I see it is…I ran away into the nighttime, into the wilderness and tried to abandon myself…”

She leaned forward to press her lips gently against mine. 

“But the wolf didn’t take me fully…I couldn’t keep my heart in the earth. I missed you, I missed your sweet little concern, all your romantic bullshit, the way you want to talk about everything and do stuff!” she laughed. “I had to go back to you…and I want to be near you,” she told me, looking up from where our fingers danced, intertwined, and up into my eyes. 

“And if being with you means marrying you and being your wife, I’ll do it,”

She kissed me again. 

“Just for you,”

“Oh my God, that’s so sweet!”

“ARGH! Gerard! Don’t stand so close, that’s so freaky!”

He grinned, ducking as Mags took a swing at him and she broke away from me to chase him, laughing as her skirt billowed around her. The subway stopped and the doors opened at our stop – Magenta literally chasing Gerard out of the carriage and up the steps, trying to get her hands on him. 

Me and Frank followed at a more natural pace. 

“I can’t believe she agreed to marry you…” marvelled Frank, as we leisurely walked towards our apartment, where the party was most likely in full swing. 

“I know, I’m still shocked she went to so much effort!”

We walked after the two of them, Magenta now had Gerard in a headlock and was forcing him to tell passers by that he got pedicures and thought Kelly Clarkson was talented. Everytime he refused, she stamped on his foot and tightened her grip. 

He was purple when we reached them. And limping. 

“I think she was storing up her insanity through that ceremony…” I commented as Magenta jumped on Gerard’s back and slapped his rump hard to make him jump forward. 

“Looks like it…she’s killing my boyfriend!”

“Nah,” I said, watching Magenta drive Gerard onto the road, amongst the traffic. “Only attempting to at the moment…”

Back at the flat, when we finally got there, it was pandemonium. Of course, for the first hour or so, there was that ghastly having to go around to everyone and be all loud and cheery and grin and hug everyone and kiss cheeks and get drinks and be the happy couple. 

But all the people we have to do that with left after Magenta started drinking whiskey from the bottle and taking her clothes off until she was just wearing her bra and the skirt, her legs twisted under her body. At that point, people magically left until it was just us five – me and Mags, Gerard, Frank and Ray. 

“Ok, presents time?” asked Frank, shutting the sunshine yellow (scratch mark covered) door on the last put out raver. I looked over at Mags and saw her eyes narrow suspiciously. 

“I don’t trust you lot with presents…” she said, only slightly drunk. I thudded down on the couch next to her and threw an arm around her shoulders. 

“At least give them a chance, honey,”

She ignored my sentence and threw herself at me, taking my breath away with a fuelled kiss. 

“HEY! HORMONE PARADE! DOWN GIRL!”

Mags moodily climbed off me and glared. But then grinned when presents were thrown at her. Ray, of course, gave us enough movies and video games to keep us occupied for weeks on end, whereas Frank decided to give Mags some sexy underwear, high heels, a garter belt, suspenders and a bra I’d drool over later. He gave me a camera. 

“You dirty bastard,” laughed Mags, chucking the thong at Frank so it hit his head and stayed stuck to the top of his head like a decoration. 

“Kinky,” he winked. I took a picture quickly. 

“Totally,”

I was distracted when I heard Mags scream next to me and throw the last parcel at me. “QUICK! HIDE IT!”

I glanced down at the rip and groaned. “Gerard! No! How could you?!”

He looked stumped. “What I do?”

I picked up the present, the wrapping paper ripping away to reveal a big fuzzy lamb’s wool cushion, a hippy tapestry left in the packaging. Magenta screamed again, covering her eyes. 

“Don’t let me touch it!”

I went to throw it out of the window as quick as I could, but in my drunken state I forgot it was closed…the cushion bounced back onto the couch, hitting Mags full in the face. 

“What’s the huge deal? …oh…oh God,”

I turned and looked, my mouth dropping open in horror. “Mags! No!” 

“That is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen!”

I couldn’t agree more. “Gerard, I _told_ you, no fluffy things!! Look at what you did!” I cried, as Magenta rolled around and pawed the fluffy pillow like a kitten, purring and making a complete fool out of herself, muttering ‘fuzzy wuzzy’ over and over. 

FLASH!

We all looked at Frank with my camera, who was grinning. He saw the looks. “What? I thought it’d be funny!”    


	10. X

“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring the fuzzy wuzzy?” I asked, leaning out of the van and talking at the girl spray-painting the bonnet. She tinged pink and looked up to meet me with a famous evil glare. “Nevermind!”

I zipped out of sight and went back to stacking food for the weekend into the car seat boot. I pushed the seats down and clipped them shut, backing out of the van and hopping out. Mags didn’t look up, concentrating on the vine she was painting. Every handful of months or so, she got bored and re painted her van, now it was vines and thorns and flowers, all evil and vibrant. 

“You got enough food, Mags?” I called, looking at the stacks of supplies she’d bought, steaks and bacon and chips. 

“Yes!” she called. 

“We’re only going up for the weekend, we’re not gonna need this much food,” I said, going over to stand behind her, moving her dreadlock out of the way so I could bite her ear and wind my hands into her belt hoops at each hip. “Not with the amount of sex we’ll be having,”

She smirked and turned to face me, letting me pull him close. “That’s why I bought so much! Plus, you’ll be carving a _lot_ of food,” she assured me. “There’s barely enough there, I reckon,” she said decisively. 

I raised my eyebrows. “That does explain all the meat you got…and the barbeques,” 

Magenta smirked and gave me a kiss, one I decided I liked too much to stop. 

“I like breathing!” she yelled at me, pushing me away and laughing. I smirked and darted forward again. 

“I don’t,”

She let me ravage her lips for a while before I felt something cool and wet on the side of my face, along with an odd, muffed hissing sound. 

“Holy shit! Don’t airbrush my face!” I cried, jumping back as soon as I worked out what it was. Her lipring flashed as she grinned, flicking her sunglasses back down onto her nose and aiming the small pump fuelled air brush at me, the cup of paint balancing on the hilt. I rubbed the green paint off my cheek, shaking my head. 

“You’re crazy!”

“And armed,” she reminded me, flashing the brush at me. I yelped and grabbed her other one, jamming a hot pink paint capsule into the container at the top. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she giggled. “It’s almost full moon and I’m in a _very_ aggressive mood,” 

Her manic grin – the one she only used when drunk on whiskey and amongst her ‘pack’ – was evidence enough she was in one of those helplessly violent moods, the kind which could only result in a lot of play fighting, sex, or blood being drawn. Very likely all three of them.   

She lunged forward at me, spraying the poison green at me, catching my neck as I stabbed with the pink, catching her side. We wrestled, dancing back and forward, steadily getting covered in patches of green and pink, laughing, swearing. I managed to knock her pink free of her hand and dropped the green, catching her throat in one hand and the other held on her lean hip, fingers digging in. 

She squirmed against me, trying to snap at my neck, my lips. Her eyes flashed red, the bloodlust of the upcoming full moon starting to infect her. I tightened my grip on her windpipe, only making her more excited. Her hands scratched at me, digging into my wrist and gouging gashes in the flesh, drawing blood. 

By this point, I was used to blood and cuts with Magenta’s violence. I’d grown to enjoy them, with only a minor flinch or two, a wince as her eyes bored into mine, insane and carnal. 

The blood trickled down my arms, surged where her fingers groped at my arm, smearing blood on her palm. She lifted the crimson to her mouth and licked, giving a guttural moan and her eyes closing in lust. 

“Fuck it!” she hissed, slapping my hand off her throat in a swift, jerked motion, she was insanely strong, and throwing herself at me. Her mouth smashed against mine, her lipring bruising my lips and cutting my lower lip against my tooth, adding more blood to the kiss she planted on me. The force of her body slamming against mine knocked us both over, collapsing on the floor of the garage, paint and blood spilled around us in splatters and drops. 

“I want you now!” she growled, ripping at my clothes. I caught her hands and pushed her back, holding her steady and causing her to writhe, hissing in painful pleasure. 

“Seriously, stop ripping my clothes up with those goddamn nails of yours! I’m running out!” I scolded, pushing her backwards and moving on top of her, ignoring that kinky look in her eyes, and only pausing the kiss briefly to glare when I heard the sound of tearing cotton. 

“Whoops,”

“Hey guys, how’s it – OH MY GOD THE HORMONES!”

I groaned and disentangled myself from Magenta, aiming a deadly glare at my brother’s oh so charming boyfriend. 

“Fuck off Frank – we’re newly weds, we’re allowed – OOF!”

Magenta tackled me from the side, her limber body wrapping around me again. It took all my strength to push her off and keep her off me. 

“Baby, we have company,”

Magenta aimed a lethal glare at Frank and got up to finish painting the van, ignoring us both in a huff. I groaned. “Great, now I’ll have to pick a fight to get laid – thanks Frank,” I smirked. He gave me a look. 

“That works for you too?”

We looked at each other and simultaneously shook our heads free of the idea, Frank offering me a hand off the floor. 

“Jeesh, what the fuck happened to your arm?” asked Frank. The gashes Mags had cut into me throbbed with heat, beginning to swell. Blood netted all over my forearm, dripping off my fingertips and drying around the edges. The cuts were already clotted.

“Oh, right, Mags got a bit playful, she always does around full moon – hey Mags, you want a drink?” I offered, lifting my scarlet stained arm. She cast it a tempted look and went back to ignoring me. I sighed and gestured to Frank to follow me up to the flat. 

“Are you gonna be ok? That looks deep…”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, I’ve had worse from her and her playful moods,” I smirked as we entered the flat, grabbing a spare towel and sticking it under the tap. Frank didn’t look as I rubbed the drying blood off my arm, turning pale. 

“So you’re all ready for tonight and the big…y’know,”

“Turning thing?” I prompted. Frank nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’m not overly keen about the idea of sitting there and watching my wife – I love saying that – turn into a big scary wolf woman creature, and letting her sink her teeth into me, but I’m ready for it,”

“Wolf creature?” asked Frank. I nodded. 

“We told you – every other night cept for the three full moon ones, she’s just a wolf, but during full moon she’s…different. You’d have to see it to understand what I mean,”

“Is it icky?”

“It’s always icky, there’s the whole skin thing,”

“Ew,” shuddered Frank. “I mean, does she look even scarier?”

I shrugged. “Kinda – she’s meant to be more human shaped and a lot bigger,” I told him. “Hence the reason I’m a bit scared about sitting there as she turns,”

Frank whistled, lapsing into thought. 

“Are you guys gonna be able to afford this?” asked Frank. I looked up at him – I hadn’t really considered that. 

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Well, Mags already eats a huge amount of meat and junk food, are you gonna be able to support two hungry wolves?”

I shrugged. “We’ll survive, I could always get an evening job at a bar or something, and Mags could always reel in extra money from her dealing,” I shrugged, unconcerned. 

“Maybe you should think about moving in with me and Gerard, we’ve got loads of extra space, and the rent would be over half the amount you’re paying now,” said Frank quickly. I turned from the sink, wrapping clean cloths around my forearm. 

“Did you come over today planning to ask me that?”

“No,” Frank shook his head, then nodded. “Yes,”

I smirked. “Relax, we’re fine, you don’t need to babysit us. Plus, how safe do you think you’d be if you had to full grown wolves in your spare bedroom?”

Frank didn’t look overly keen on the idea. “It might be safer, having us to bodyguard, and less money,” he pointed out. 

“Money isn’t an issue,”

“Well…if it turns out to be, and you won’t move in with us, I’ve heard about this group who wanna help out wolves-“

I dropped the safety pin I was working into my bandage. “Hairy Helpers?” I echoed, dread blossoming in my stomach. Frank grinned and nodded. 

“Yeah! They offer _everything_ to wolves – like money and food and places to turn and stuff-“

“Frank, where did you learn about this?” I asked, lowering my voice. I could hear Magenta singing along to the radio outside. Frank frowned, suddenly confused. 

“What’s wrong?”

I pulled him further away from Mags and her sharp ears. “Frankie, where did you hear about this?”

“This-this guy came up to me at work in City Hall, he started asking about conference rooms for meetings, and flashed this flyer –“ Frank pulled out a neon yellow piece of paper, with a logo I remembered, much to my dismay “And I asked if I could keep it…”

I groaned, biting my lip. “What did he look like?” 

“Um…longish dark hair, weird clothes-“

“Like a waistcoat and a cape and stuff?”

“Yeah, like a bad Edger Allen Poe play,”

I swore under my breath. “You didn’t mention _anything_ about knowing a werewolf or Mags or me or anything, right?”

Frank shook his head, his eyes huge. “I just asked if I could have a flyer to show my boss, and directed him towards one of the admins,”

That caught my attention too “Which one?”

“Adams, the one who married you,”

“Shit!”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, confused and upset. I shook my head quickly. 

“Ok, Frank, you have to keep this quiet, don’t let Mags find out – that guy, his name is Ashe, he’s the leader of Hairy Helpers and they’re insane, ok? They wanna find a wolf so they can make it turn them,” I said, keeping my voice low. Frank’s eyes widened. 

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah, but Mags can’t know, she’ll go psycho and get herself hurt or something,” I told him “Ashe can’t find out about me or her, ok? He thinks my name’s Max and-“

“Wait, how do you know this? Do you know him?”

“I went to one of their meetings to see what they were about, and I told them I was someone else. They’ve got people who take photos of potential wolves – if they think you’re connected to a wolf, or I am, they’ll follow us and find….”

Frank and I looked at each other, hearing Mags raise her voice along with the song. 

_“Oh, we’re half way there, oh! Living on a prayer!”_


	11. XI

“Mags, baby, get the rest of your stuff, we’re going!” I called, hurrying over to where she was still painting. She raised an eyebrow at me, cut off mid line of the song she was singing. 

“Huh?”

“Come on, baby, we’ve waited around too long – let’s get the hell outta here,” I smiled tensely. I was nervous, eager to get the fuck outta there. Once we were out of the city, the easy it’d be to see if we were followed. Meanwhile, I’d sent Frank away with orders to look out for freaks and to go back to City Hall and talk to the admin, I had to make sure Ashe didn’t know anything…solid. But, at the same time, I didn’t want Magenta to know _why_ I was eager to get moving. I needed her to be calm, in control for tonight. When we got back, I’d tell her everything and she and I could decide what to do together. But now, I needed to act like the only thing on my mind was getting her up alone in the woods for a lengthy fuckfest. 

“I’m not finished yet,” she said, frowning at me. I looked at the paint drying on the van and walked over to her, grabbing her hips and pulling her into me. I let the smell of blood from my arm fill her nostrils and I kissed her full on, slamming her against the side of the van which was already dry. 

“You can finish that later,” I said firmly. “Right now, I have a better idea,”

She growled, rolling her body and hissing. She nodded. 

“All right, I’ll get my stuff,”

“I’ll pack up your paints,” I said, smiling and kissing her again. She gave me a look and went inside. I stood outside, staring at the van and shaking. With anxiety, with excitement, with fear. I glanced out into the driveway, half expecting to see the entire cast of Interview with a Vampire peering around the fence. 

I packed her stuff away quickly, piling bags of food and bedding into the main van before slamming the door shut and hopping into the front seat. I tapped my feet agitatedly on the pedals, my fingers plucking silent chords against the wound down window. I turned the radio on, louder, as I waited for Magenta. 

I don’t wanna be an American Idiot…

I gritted my teeth, thinking of Ashe and his idiotic friends. He’d seen Magenta, at City Hall. I went back into my memory, seeing the grey sky and his dumb outfit. I remember what Magenta had been wearing, her low cut top showing off that tattoo. I remembered the photograph of the potential werewolf in the Hairy Helpers HQ – the one with the blurry ink on his chest…

If Ashe had seen the tattoo…if he recognised it…and then if he spoke to the admin who married us, found out our real names, about Magenta’s supposed ‘contacts’. It’d be enough, I thought. That’d be enough for them to come and hunt us too – hound us. But were they really a threat? They said they worshipped werewolves…offered help, support. And only then did they think that after a certain amount of gratitude had been created, that they would be turned…’blessed’. 

Not scary, nothing to be scared of. Just something to avoid. 

Magenta would hate the idea of followers, of a cult worshipping her. She’d find their simpering need to please and help revolting, pathetic. She’d refuse any support they offered and want to run. Werewolves are the underbelly of the world, she told me once, and we don’t want it any other way. 

There was no way in hell she’d consider turning anyone but me. Werewolves turn humans for mates, they Bind with them. It’s not a gift, it’s a contract. 

I heard the van door slid open and Magenta threw her pack in, with all the little essentials we might have needed. I smiled at her as she walked around the front of the van and hopped into the passenger seat, leaning over to go for a heated kiss. 

“This is it,” she grinned, obviously happy. 

“Actually, no, this is us getting the hell outta here so we can start ‘it’,” I teased her. “All locked up?”

She nodded, buckling herself in. “Tight as your anal retentiveness,” 

“Excellent, that’ll keep those rats and Franks out,” I grinned, starting to relax as I started up the van and pulled out into the street. I checked the road carefully as we went, trying not to let Mags catch me constantly checking the rear view mirror and wing mirrors. I was looking for suspicious cars following us, or even just people noting which way we were going. 

This would’ve been so much easier if we weren’t in a van as amazing as this. People stared at it just for the sake of it, not because they were noting down which way we were heading to report to a freak in a cape and sunglasses. 

As soon as we got out of the city, I let Mags shove one of her favourite CDs into the player and turn it up until the steering wheel and cracked leather of her van seats vibrated. We roared along with it, dancing in our pent up, excitable states. 

I followed the directions Mags gave me, winding up country roads and getting deeper and deeper into the woodland. She was obviously taking us a route she’d already worked out, from when she came up once a month to lock herself away for the moon. I shivered when I thought of the full moon, and of the creature Magenta would transform into. 

But then I thought of the existence we’d have together, existing as wolves, mates. Running wild, howling to the moon, killing together. My blood tingled with cold excitement. 

“Turn right here,” I heard Mags say, over the music playing. I did so, taking the off road dirt track. The van instantly began to sway and chop over lumps of dirt and rock, but we continued on until Magenta was satisfied. It had been mid afternoon when I’d forced us to leave, a little earlier than planned. It’d taken us three hours to reach the ‘honeymoon’ spot Magenta had chosen. 

“Stop here,” she grinned. “I’ll drive to the spot,” she said, smiling. Magenta, a romantic surprise? Couldn’t be! I chuckled to myself and got out, swapping places with her and letting her tie a blindfold around my eyes. She kissed my cheek. 

“This isn’t romantic, this is fun,” she told me, practically reading my thoughts. I stuck my tongue out at her and felt the van move on, driving for about five more minutes. When she stopped, she hopped out and came around to help me out. 

“Wait for it,” she whispered in my ear, pulling me along. I tripped once or twice, but let her lead me blindly. I felt her tug at the blindfold and let it slip from my eyes, gasping. 

She’d chosen a hillside camp, a tiny little clearing that left a wide open space to see the stars and overlooked the landscape. Hills and roads netted around our home in the distance. The sky was beginning to ting from gold to deep orange, the sun drawing close to the horizon. It would be under an hour before Magenta turned and we were Bound. 

But right then all I could think about was the colours of the clouds in the sky, and the twinkling of lights from our town. I wrapped Magenta up in my arms, feeling hardened muscles in her arms and back, feeling the predator inside her. How different she’d become. She used to be fierce and angry and mean…and now, with me, she was just wonderful. 

I pushed her sunglasses up off her face and traced a thumb down her cheek, smiling. 

“I love you,” I whispered. 

“I hate you,” she said back. “You’re trying to make this romantic – stop that,”  
I snorted. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s eat some food and have some loud, messy sex,”

She grinned. “Best kind,” she said, locking the van up. 

It was warm up here in the hills, heat from the town flooding up to settle as humid air around us. Hurling logs around for a fire didn’t help matters, I just got hotter. I pulled my shirt off and continued to build a fire for us, feeling sweat build up on my body. 

In the years I’d had with Magenta, I’d learnt of her bloodlust. I learnt quickly that her bites and scratches were playful, not malicious, and bleeding turned her on. I learnt that most pain could be ignored, and most injuries treated easily.  

As a consequence, my skin was mottled with scars she and I had earned. The latest would be the deep gouges of her claws in my forearm, which only inched rather than hurt. 

Most of the scars were on my back, her claws drawing blood and cutting through skin during climax, but there were numerous bite marks on my chest, arms and neck. There was one on my neck, which still stood out snowy white scar tissue compared to my tawny skin. One where she’d bitten down far too hard. But all my scars had healed, and I cherished them as marks of love. Sorta like permanent hickies. 

When the fire was built and crackling happy, I stood and stared into it, and felt Magenta’s hands wind around me. 

“No time for food, it seems, baby,” she whispered in my ear. I turned to look at her. She had discarded her jacket, and her sunglasses, as well as her strappy top. She stood in just her underwear and jeans, her eyes glowing red and gold. The love light. 

“Why?”

She nodded out to the horizon. I turned and looked out. In my efforts, I hadn’t noticed the sky grow purple and dotted with silver. I saw the lip of the moon being to creep up, barely glimmering. 

“Magenta moon rising,” she whispered. Time to turn. 


	12. XII

I turned back to her and felt a tremor of fear pass through me. Fear of the unknown. Of excitement. Magenta smiled at me, and reached up to kiss me again, threading a hand through my chin length, soft brown hair. She traced my arms, my chest lightly. 

“It’s ok…it’s ok,” she assured me, stepping back. 

During full moon, when the moon is the fattest and fullest it can be, werewolves are slightly different than during the rest of the month. It’s simple, really. Any night the moon shines, Magenta had the option to change – or, as she said it, the option not to – and no choice on full moon. The only time a werewolf couldn’t change was the new moon, but Magenta had already proved that under stress that didn’t apply…at least, to her. 

There are other differences. During the normal night, depending on how waxed or waned the moon is, the wolf will be more aggressive, but she’ll still just be a wolf with werewolf eyes. At full moon, she became…a different kind of wolf. Far more aggressive, powerful. Bigger, much bigger, and a lot more human. 

Magenta stepped further back, and looked out at the moon. She gave a low moan, a whine that already sounded like a puppies yearning for its mother. Her eyes went all distant and hazy, and a small smile came to her face as she traced her hands over her body, unhooking her bra, loosening her jeans. Soon she was naked and sitting on the floor, mouth open and staring at the moon. 

She lay down, beginning to moan and growl, in a mixture of excitement and pain. I heard noises – pops as bones dislocated out of joints, and cracks as they shattered inside her altogether and reformed. Her skeleton warped under her skin, and she opened her mouth to pant in pain – her limbs writhing next to her twisted spine, her arched neck. 

I wanted to go over to her, but that was a bad idea. I could see muscles bunching up under her flesh, expanding, flexing, growing until she was grotesque with them, her skin unable to hold them. With a cry, she attacked the skin of her chest, her stomach, ripping the skin away and scrabbling it away. In the deep, bloody gashes, dark hair sprouted, bursting through the release of pressure inside her body and splitting deep lines down her body to her core and neck, splitting down her arms and legs like lines of a bloody jigsaw puzzle. 

Limbs grew and tore loose of the wasted flesh, the pieces of my Magenta just ripped free and leaving and hairy, blood soaked beast. The last to go was a useless mask of open mouthed skin, ripped away to leave a mane of matted dreads crowning the head of the werewolf, and it’s neck and back. 

I backed away, fear trickling through me. Everytime I saw this, she was a docile wolf, just a large dog covered in blood. Now, she was a huge werewolf. She clawed the ground, rising on her paws and shaking her head free of shreds of skin still clinging to her werewolf body. If she rose to her full height, her back reached to just under my chest, and if she rose onto her hind legs and stood like a man, she was nearly one and a half times my height. Her head was almost twice the size of mine, and her jaw and teeth looked terrifying in the firelight. Drool born from the bloodlust snapped from her canines, the fire dancing in her mad red and gold zigzagged eyes. 

The dreadlocks I’d become so attached to, the ones I loved to wind through my fingers on lazy days, had become part of her glistening coat, winding and plaiting with the long, rough fur of her back. It made a thick scruff of her neck, protecting her spine and winding down to the dip of her spine and the soft rises of her bony hips. Her shoulders forearms were enormous with muscle, slicked with the blood into an almost black colour and wisped back. Her stomach was covered in what seemed soft, hairy down, but carved beneath it was visible a wall of hard muscle and flesh – a predator. 

Her forepaws were shaped more like hands and ended in some of the evillest claws I’ve ever imagined, crunching into the grit on the clearing. Her back legs were no better, two slabs of pure muscle, shivering with the power and panic the moon laced her blood with. Veins netted under her thick, drenched coat, her muscles and bones shaking with the pain of the turn and the irritation of flesh still clinging to stubborn hairs. Her tail whisked in agitation. 

I swallowed, feeling my dry throat close up as I shook myself out of shock. She was bigger and meaner looking than I thought she would be, and far more human shaped. I watched her scratch at herself with sets of talons, kneeling on the dirt floor and licking at the crimson liquid and gulping down hunks of fatty, congealed skin and clumps of hair. 

Then, when she was clean and glowing in the firelight, no longer black but a deep chocolate brown, she turned. I felt the bright, terrifying eyes fix on me and I couldn’t see Magenta in them. I heard a soft growl erupt from her, and hair bristled along her back as she raised her mass onto two dangerously powerful legs. I felt something cold break out across my body, sweat and fear mingled. I couldn’t run, I was fixed to the spot and shivering with fear. 

Come on, Magenta, it’s me – Mikey. 

My lips shook as I took deep breaths, watching her straight up, standing on her hind legs and towering over me – golden eyes still piercing at me. The growl seemed to be all around me. Her eyes pulled me in – like a snake hypnotising a mouse before it gulped it down. Like a hunter stared down it’s prey. 

“Oh shit…” I whispered. I was going to die. 

With two footsteps, the enormous towering beast descended upon me and seized me in one huge clawed hand, thrusting me up and holding me like a limp rag doll in both. I fell loose in her strong grasp, staring into those dazzlingly, bloodthirsty eyes. 

“Mags…” I whispered. I was too shocked, too scared to even move. She held me up, growling. Two rows of the sharpest, scariest teeth bared inches from me as her head moved closer. Reeking breath rolled over my shaking limbs. I felt pathetic in her claws. I was going to die – she didn’t recognise me. 

She was going to eat me. 

But why wasn’t she? She was holding me in her piercing grasp, her claws digging painfully into my ribcage and back, her wet black nose nudging at my arms and neck, her eyes glowering. She was still growling. 

“Magenta,” I whispered again, feeling two tears slip out of my eyes. I couldn’t believe it had come to this…I had stupidly stayed still whilst my lover transformed into a beast, only to slaughter me. Held by fear and held by love. 

I don’t know how long she held onto me, all I could feel was sweat dripping down my naked chest, and moisture from her breath joining it. Blood drops from the cuts her claws made in my skin were carried away in the heat pouring from my skin, and I could feel my heart thudding against my chest. I’d never felt so petrified in my life, waiting for her to act, to grab my throat in her teeth and rip it out. 

Eventually I became aware that the deadly growl was weakening. She sniffed at me again, her eyes still glinting evilly and her teeth still bared. I couldn’t look away. 

“Magenta, it’s me,” I whispered, trying again. 

Suddenly, causing me to cry out in surprise, she threw me down on the dirt floor. My mouth was filled with the taste of mud and I felt the cool earth beneath my chest. I didn’t move, hearing her advance. A hind paw crunched next to my ear as she kneeled over my body, pinning me with her body heat. The smell of drying blood surrounded me, and I felt a droplet of saliva hit my head as monstrous muzzle lowered to drag my scent up again. 

I felt a rough, wet tongue dragged across my shoulder blades, licking up to my neck and sending a shiver through my body. Somehow, away from those eyes, it was less terrifying to feel her breath roll across my cold body, to know teeth and death was touching my skin along with that eager tongue. 

The growl came back, but softer. Then I realised. It was more like a purr than a growl. The tongue running across my shoulder blades and neck wasn’t the harsh treatment of a creature preparing food, it was a scolding, cleaning lick of a mother licking a pup. I felt her paws run over my back, cradling me, lifting me from the dirt. Her claws didn’t hurt, even if they still pressed against bare skin. 

I turned over, shaking. I met her eyes and saw the ‘love light’ I thought had ripped away with her skin. I saw Magenta. 

“Mags…” I whispered, resting against her paw-like hands and reaching up tentatively. She made no motion to stop me, her eyes burning into mine as I lifted my arm and touched the side of her shaggy head, running the entirety of my hand and wrist along the side of her head, down her neck. My fingers found their way back into the tangle of dreads. “Magenta,” 

She opened her mouth, her tongue lolling out and caught my wrist with the long, pink device. I flinched at first, until I realised she merely ran her sensitive tongue over the gashes on my arm, and didn’t make to bite, to break, to tear away. 

She looked back at me and lifted me close, cradling me close to her lycan form like a mother held a baby to it’s breast. I wrapped my arms around her hairy bulk instinctively, feeling the deep vibrations of her purr fill me, feeling the warmth. Over the stench of blood, I smelt it. Magenta’s scent. Her pheromones.

I felt my heart swell inside my chest, wrapped in the arms of my werewolf bride. I pulled back to look her in the eye again.  She looked back, panting and giving off a pleased purring growl. 

“I’m ready,” I told her, twisting in her arms and baring my neck to her. “Turn me,”

She gave a low, happy whine, and kissed my neck, running her tongue over it. Here goes everything. 


	13. XIII

I should’ve felt scared. I should’ve felt fucking terrified, but I didn’t – I felt exhilarated. The pressure of Magenta’s claws against my skin, the roughness of her pads, and the scratch of her hair, all sent excited twists through my body. I couldn’t wait to join her in that strong, lean form. 

She licked my neck gently, holding me close. She seemed to be preparing me as if sterilising the skin. No hope there. From the smell of her breath, there was no hope of cleanliness the entire weekend. 

I heard her jaws open wide, and felt everything buzz. This was it. She lowered her head, wrapping my neck in her jaws and placing her teeth gently against the skin of my protruding spinal column – the bony lump between my shoulder blades. I wished she wouldn’t do it this way – the faster the be-hey! That hurt!

She nipped me, slicing quickly through skin and clicking against the bone. As soon as I heard the click and heard the more internal crunch of tooth against bone, I felt something. I felt the crunch through my skeleton, an electric shock. I jumped and she retracted her jaws, lapping up the blood already pooling around my neck and dripping down my front. She picked me up again, holding me close. 

“I can feel it!” I whispered, clinging to her long fur and closing my eyes. My flesh and muscles started to feel burning hot, whilst my skin froze like a million icy needles with scraping along it. I felt swollen, like I was thickening and growing too fast. My joints creaked with pain, and my bones tingled with it. Any pressure caused pain, and I moaned out loud. 

I barely felt Mags place me down gently on the dirt floor, nuzzling me gently with her nose, staying close. 

Sweat broke out across my body, and I writhed as pain stabbed through limbs and muscles at random. I gritted my teeth and tried to hold in the discomfort I was feeling. With a cry, I heard an internal, sickening _pop_ and an intense pain in my right hip. Another and my left hip – then two more as my shoulders popped loose of sockets and I was fully screaming now. 

Cracks and pops echoed through my screaming into my head as elbows popped loose and kneecaps, ribs cracking inside my chest and spine curving inside. I felt my shins and forearms shatter inside bulging, expanding muscle and reform – a deep tickling sensation accompanied with the worst pain I’d ever felt. The pain didn’t stop, my entire skeleton destroying itself and recreating itself bigger and ill-fitting to the human skin I still wore. 

Magenta was right – my skin felt like a suffocating layer over the painful muscles now netting and interlacing along my arms, chest, hips, back and legs. I felt my neck click and realign, my skull stabbing with white, searing pain – my nose and jaw shattering as I tired to ease the pain by touching them. Touching them with claws sheathed in skin. 

Crying out again, partly from pain, and partly from frustration, I tore. I tore at the skin still covering my itching, burning body. I ripped and sliced through once cherished skin like a child ripping through wrapping paper. Claws burst through useless fingers, blood-soaked, vein riddled hairy paw-like hands now tearing through soft layers of butter skin, and I felt myself split all over – my skin bursting around my growing form, my lycan body tearing through the demin of my jeans like paper. 

Finally, the pain stopped, the cutting feeling. She was right. A bag of ropes, cutting into me and holding down my real form. 

I lay on the cold ground, panting, feeling Magenta’s quick tongue lap up the blood soaking me through, her pleased purr telling me over and over that she loved me. She spoke to me without saying a word. 

I purred back, still shaking with fatigue and pain from the change. She grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up, to lean against her lycan body. Our scents mingled as she rubbed her face down mine, inviting my scent into hers. I felt her claws run through rough, tawny sand brown fur, brushing at the shorter, lighter mane I sported. 

Mikey, she whispered, growling my name straight into my quivering flesh. She cradled me until the memory of stabbing pains left me and she reached over me to pluck my old skin from the dirt floor and fed me my first meal. 

I’d never tasted such a taste as rich, warm, tangy blood slipping down my throat – the crunch of my teeth slicing through the thick, rubbery flesh and the metallic sensation of congealing blood on my tongue. 

Magenta fed me and welcomed me to the world by pulling me to my aching back legs, forcing me up to stand like a lycan – on my own, two hind paws. She held me close and licked at my face, purring. 

Minutes passed, her cleaning me, licking me, welcoming me. I breathed in her scent, tasting it with my tongue and nose, hearing the sounds of her heart beating, her breaths, her soft moans. I tasted her when I kissed her, lapping at her face and feeling the power between our towering, muscular bodies. 

We were Bound. 

We were Werewolves. 

She tagged me then, thudding me in the chest and barely knocking the breath out of me as she ran back, loping down onto four legs and vanishing from the fire and the van we once called big enough for a nest – now it was a surprise Magenta could squeeze herself in there. I dropped to four legs, crouching and sniffing the floor. I found her scent clung to the wet ground like a footprint left in snow, and I pulled back my head to the silver, beautiful moon and howled in pursuit. 

I loped after her, feeling the air rush through my drying pelt, feeling the earth under my paws – feeling the superb strength coursing through my whittled muscles and tendons bunching and stretching with each, loping stride after her. The speed at my paws, the control and the power made me feel drunk, giddy. 

My lungs ballooned inside my thick chest, every part of my body feeling bigger, stronger and as light as a feather as I pounded the earth after my lycan bride. Her scent invaded my senses, blinding me and shining the love light out of my eyes. My nose burned and my tongue tingled with the pure, undiluted feral lust she laced the ground with. Her pheromones made my blood race; my muscles shake with more than adrenaline and shock. 

All of a sudden, my ears pricked to the side of the trees against my body and I jumped nimbly away from it – Magenta bursting out of the undergrowth with both fore paws extending, grabbing me and collapsing against my body, flattening me in the stride I was unable to pull out of in time. Our bodies rolled, arms wrapped around bodies, hair bristling, jaws snapping. 

I sprang away, leaping into a tree. I misjudged the distance, and the strength of my hind legs, and crashed into the trunk, hitting the floor with a howl of pain and sitting back on my haunches, my taloned hands over my muzzle. 

I felt Magenta’s laughter, even if I only heard a soft purring. She came up and sat with me, and licked my nose. I whined and licked her back, a paw reaching up to bat at her neck. She laughed again and sprang off – telling me to follow. 

The scent changed, the playful tang gone. Now, my belly gurgled and her throat gaped for the scent of a rabbit, a fox – prey. Our bodies raced low and deadly, near to the ground. I followed her close, her hind legs muscles flexing and stretching near my muzzle – I closely followed her like a shadow. 

We slinked through the shadowed woods, now lit up in my eyes like daylight. Our ears pricked, it seemed everything silenced as we searched for a noise of prey. Even our hearts seemed to quiet themselves. My nose caught a scrap, a hint of air laced with musky, animal smells of fur and bone and shit. 

I stopped, my body freezing instantly. Magenta caught my thought, my instinct of the predator scenting prey. She stopped and came back, padding around under the cover of trees to touch our noses, mingle the scent. Moose. 

We moved towards it, silent and black as shadows. Magenta told me to curve around the creature. It’s baleful, wide head was soon in sight as it grazed in a streak of moonlight. I slowly crept around it’s back whilst Magenta, far more skilled than I at the subtleties of our shapes. I felt exhilarated as we crept closer and closer to the stupid, clueless animal. 

It didn’t even see when Magenta sprung up and over it’s lowered head, fixing all her long, razor sharp claws into it’s neck and shoulders, latching up just as I followed her and leaped onto it’s back, slashing, ripping, maiming the roaring creature. It’s cries fell on deaf ears, I could only hear the snarls of my bride and the beating of all three hearts. The pumping of blood out gaping wounds, the shattering breathes in-between roars, and the thick, succulent taste and smell of fresh, juicy blood. 

The creature crumbled beneath our combined attack, it’s fur and skin soaked in it’s own blood. It lay still and shuddered as the life passed away and it became a meal for me and my frenzied bride, meat slipping down our throats after being ripped free for flanks and slabs of muscle. Blood coursed over my skin again as I scooped out the handfuls of meat and chomped through it, growling in satisfaction. When my belly was full and my jaws licked clean of blood, I found a pair of blood red, gold glittering eyes fix on me. 

She chased me then. Chased me back to the warmth and fear of the fire, and the alien smelling van. She let me run, nipping my tail, darting around me, teaching me how much better she was, more agile. But in the clearing, when I ran my tongue over her fur and learnt the taste, and she learnt mine – I proved who was alpha male. 


	14. XIV

I woke up at dawn, shaking. I opened my mouth to whine, my eyes still shut and my body trembling all over – but the whine came out as a human moan. I opened my eyes and blinked, opening them wide to take in everything. I lay on the forest floor, curled onto my side with a naked, scowling girl in my arms. Hair littered the floor around us, clumps of matted fur. My body shook from cold and pain of the turn back into human. I moaned, shaking my head as violent thoughts overcame the pain – I wanted to hit out, tear up the ground and myself – the dull ache was like toothache and it needled inside my skull. 

The bites on the back of my neck burnt, itching as they began to knit together again. 

I was rewarded in my groaning with Magenta’s eyes flickering open. I knew my eyes matched hers now, and her smile mirrored mine. 

“Good morning,” she yawned, nestling in closer to me, brushing hair off my chest and flicking her dreadlocks away. She saw the conflicted pain on my face and sat back a bit, propping herself up. “Everything ok?”

I shook my head. “It aches…”

She moved back, sitting up and moving to sit astride my hips. “Not surprised, we were pretty rough on each other last night,” she growled, running her fingernails down my chest. I winced, but felt pleasure running through my abused skin. I opened my eyes and saw the bites and scratches covering both of our bodies. Magenta’s just as much as mine – the memories of last night were coming back at me like a drunken bar crawl. Bits and pieces, flashes. 

I winced. “Did we really have sex all night?”

She nodded. “Yep,”

" _All_ night?"

"I think you passed out towards the end... although that didn't stop me," she chuckled, nubbling at my skin. 

“Ha, you raped me,” I giggled stupidly, my head aching from the heightened smells and lights hitting my eyes and nose. 

“You loved it,”

I smiled weakly. “Yeah, I did…but fucking hell, Mags, this really does hurt,”

She looked over me quickly, frowning a bit. “None of them are too deep, you lost the worst of it when you lost your wolf skin – stop being a pussy,”

I shook my head. “Not those, baby, me – inside. I…it aches,” I said, trying to explain. She frowned and bent down to look me straight in the eye, the heat from her body tingling against my skin. 

“Maybe it’s because this is your first full moon, you haven’t adjusted to the changes yet…your body isn’t used to it,” she suggested. I swallowed. 

“I buy that…but fuck, it’s cold, can we go into the van?” I asked. She smirked and leaned down further to kiss me. 

“There are other ways to get warm,” she said suggestively. I moaned. 

“You rode me hard enough last night, I was a bit of a rest, Mrs Way,”

“Shut up, Mr Sharp – plus I’m hungry. Food first, then we can blob out in the van,”

I sighed. “Alright, at least let me put pants on,”

“Why?”

She seemed genuinely surprised at this idea. I raised an eyebrow at her, my hands going to her hips and easily lifting her off me – I loved how much stronger I was now. My muscles sang with power, bulging under the skin. It seemed I’d lost every pound of puppy fat in the change, I was hard and lean and coiled like a wire now. I liked it. 

“Because, Mrs Way, I like my balls to not be blue from cold and retracted inside my body,”

“I like blue,”

I rolled my eyes and got up, my feet padding on the earth and finding it comforting rather than unpleasant. I unlocked the van, finding the key still tucked under the lip of the van, and pulled out a duffel bag of clothes. I pulled on some boxers and some tight black jeans, finding even my smallest pair were looser now, and did a belt up. I was about to hunt for a shirt when two wandering, clawed hands wound themselves around my waist and a mouth kissed my bare shoulder, a keen tongue tracing a deep graze from the night before. 

“Hello,” I said, netting my fingers with hers and finding my nails matched her – longer, sharper and blackened naturally. They looked evil now, and dangerous. 

“I’m happy,” she whispered. “But don’t let anyone know,”

  
I scoffed. “You’re such an oddball, you chase happiness but don’t want anyone to know,”

“Shh. I want you to stay naked,”

“Of course you do, you like staring,”

“Duh,”

She let go of me and found herself some underwear and a pair of her own, torn jeans. She didn’t bother with a shirt so I didn’t either – finding the cooking stuff and some food. Bacon, eggs, bread and ketchup. Best honeymoon breakfast ever. 

As we sat around the newly made fire and ate our food, eyes glowing at each other, I examined my new body. My hair was longer, thicker, fuller. My skin was tougher, more tanned, and stretched over muscles and bone that I felt course with power. My nails matched Mags, and my eyes, which I examined in the van rear mirrors – gasping at the sudden change to full black and jagged red and gold lines, thin and dancing as I blinked. I didn’t recognise myself, my face losing it’s boyish charm and becoming…older somehow. 

Even my teeth were different – my canines sharper and my entire jaw stronger and fiercer. I found biting my tongue wasn’t a great idea.

Magenta watched me stretch my body, padding on attentive feet that read the floor like fingertips. She watched me break branches, testing my limits. She watched me leap up into the trees and swing down again, testing speed, agility. 

“It’s the full moon flush,” she said unexpectantly, my ears pricking to catch her words. That was the best part – everything smelt better, tasted stronger, looked brighter and more vibrant. It was like I’d been living life in greyscale, dimmed down and flat, but someone had lifted the veil from my eyes and I now saw in colour and depth. Even smells had colours, and taste had shapes.

“What?”

“During full moon, we’re our most powerful. In between, it’s not the same. Full moon sets our bodies on fire,” she hissed, and I could hear the lust in her voice. She was drunk on the power of her own body, of the joining of ours. I stopped what I was doing and went over to her, picking her up by her hips and slamming her forcefully against the side of the van. It rocked violently, and Magenta hissed, wrapping her arms around my neck loosely and hitching her legs up. 

I felt unexplainable violence run through me – a need to throw her down and hurt her for our pleasure, a sick kind of a lust. She felt it too, but she didn’t fight it, raising a hand to claw down the side of my face, her lips lapping up the blood and kissing me, infecting me with the taste. I groaned deep in my throat and spun throwing her down, onto the floor and pouncing on her. My face was bleeding, dripping blood onto her and covering her in droplets of deep crimson. 

The smell infected me, filled me with loud, feral desires. I licked them off her, my body writhing over the top of hers, holding her down like a carnivore feasting over a carcass. Her arms and legs slinked up to wrap around me, nails from her fingers and claws from her toes digging into my cut skin. 

“I want you now,” she growled, using her human voice. We didn’t need to speak anymore, not when we were like this. Not when we were low and dirty and fuelled by the wolf inside our skins. I felt power I’d never imagined drowning me. 

I didn’t reply, just kissed her properly, smashing our lips together and crushing her head down into the ground in my mindlessness. 

She hitched up, pushing me roughly to the side and flattening my back across the cool, moist ground and straddling me. Her nails pinched either side of my face, my jeans now straining in the heat between our bleeding bodies. I wanted to change again, ditch this clumsy body and become the predator again. The predator howling in my skull.   

Her hand lowered to my chest, resting almost gently. I was too busy fumbling with the catch of her jeans and my own to care how she amused herself, my mind and body ached with one single idea, to link us again. I hissed as her nails scratched, cutting a deep line in the flat plane of my torso, right above my heart. She silenced me with her tongue, sitting back. 

“Shh, babe, I’m marking you,” she told me, keeping me pinned. My hand dipped into the open V of her fly and found it’s target, her warm flesh already wet for me. She hissed as she cut into me, drawing intricate loops, circles and lines into me, wiping away the blood. 

I watched her concentrate, her eyes shimmering in a mixture of painful pleasure and bloodlust, watching me bleed as she dragged her nails over me in the age old Little Dragon Egg. I felt the wound tingle, but burning deeper inside my ribcage, into my heart. The heart of the dreamer, the heart of Fire. The power, the instrument of power. She cracked open a cartridge of black ink from her back pocket and poured it onto my chest, rubbing it into the wound. Her fingers rubbed the cuts open, dragging the ink down, hard into the hissing wounds. I growled beneath her, rolling my hips up to show her just how much I enjoyed it. She rubbed against my hand and leant down to kiss me. 

“I lo-urgggh!” she growled, biting my lip in shock. Two hissing noises sliced through her love-meant whisper and echoed another two sharp pains stabbing my side. I looked down as Mags sprang to attention on top of me, on her feet and claws out, hissing. Two darts, fat with empty glass cylinders stayed imbedded in her thigh, and I saw two in my own side, the needles deep inside me and the liquid trickling cold into my limbs. Already my stomach felt numb, my legs shaking with coolness. 

“Run!” I yelled to her, leaping up to my feet and grabbing her wrist and fleeing the camp site. Panic, and rage tore through me as stabs of fatigue painted my muscles, making running harder. My eyes clouded and I fought to keep moving, feeling as if I ran through waist deep water. 

Behind me, Magenta swore and roared her frustration, dragging her bare feet to keep up with me, her right leg useless with the paralysing fluid. I stopped and pulled her into me, swinging her up over my shoulder and trying to lope away, brushing the darts free of both of our bodies. 

She moaned my name, and I tripped with clumsiness, dropping her. Figures surrounded us and I blinked to clear the fog in my eyes, my mouth opening to yell, scream, anything. Magenta roared again, hidden from me by black clad strangers that reeked of human and cigarette smoke. I fought against hands holding me, slashing up arms, legs, faces, whatever I could reach. 

“MAGENTA!” I roared, the inhuman cry tearing from my lungs like a blast from a bomb, and I threw myself through the sheath of people. They parted like a cloud, and I couldn’t see her, they’d taken her, they’d vanished with her and now they surrounded me. I could only see their eyes – bright, awed, determined eyes. I hissed, exhaustion and the fluid’s influence threatening to drop me and leave me powerless. 

With one final leap of energy, I tossed myself over the line of scrubs next to me and rolled. I heard yelling and I felt bouts of pain as I rolled, but it didn’t matter. 

I was unconscious by the time I reached the bottom.  


	15. XV

The first thing I really noticed was the smell of the ground. Wet, and deep. I’d never noticed just how beautiful the smell of damp earth was. It filled my head and made me groan low in my throat. My eyes snapped open then – briefly terrified by the thought that the groan I made was more like a growl. 

I’d forgotten, for the briefest second, what I now was…when I opened my eyes, the world shifted into dramatic scales of greyscale and glowed in the basking moonlight. I growled, feeling pain stab through the back of my legs and spine – bruises from the falling roll, and tingling ice shards of feeling coming back into my muscles. 

Whatever drug they hit us with, it was powerful, and deadly. My head sunk forward with heaviness still, and my breathing laboured to keep my eyes open. I had the devil’s own job getting to my paws. Skin flapped uselessly off my wolf limbs, the charge happening whilst I was out this time. 

I licked the blood slowly off me, nursing the dull ache in the back of my Lycan skull. I had the headache of the century thanks to those cunts that attacked us. If I had been human, man-Mikey, I would have panicked, freaked out, gone mental over it. They’d taken Magenta, my Lycan bride, my mate. The werewolf me, the real me, only growled low and ominously in it’s throat. 

It wasn’t a case to mourn, it was a case of revenge. I would track them, steal her back and slaughter anyone in my way. Nothing seemed important in this case, except to retrieve her. I didn’t care who took her, or why, or how they knew where to find us or how to stop us, but that didn’t matter. 

The wolf me wanted blood. Wanted carnage. Wanted the hunt. 

Sniffing the ground, I tracked my own scent, digging my claws into the soggy clay-like side of the cliff and clambering up, following my scent back to the top of the cliff. They had left me, apparently considering me dead after the pitiful fall. 

Fools. 

It would mark their massacre. The muscles netted across my still trembling skeleton bulged with pounding bloodlust-laced blood. My jaw salivated with hungry, my belly growling fit to match my rumbling gullet. With a series of panting sniffs, I found my bride’s scent staining the earth alongside mine, and the filthy human reek of sweat marking the cunts who took her. 

With each loping stride, my body powered through the steely night, searching, following their scents and keeping my lean mass close to the ground. My claws scarred the ground with each leap.

I sensed the attack this time. A strong scented kick in the nose told me of a presence and I leaped back, rising onto my hind paws and raising my claws like a boxer as someone leapt out of the tree and faced me. I hoped what he saw scared him, as it would be the last thing he ever saw. The man was a monster of a man, it occurred to me as I lunged forward and snatched at him with my claws. He was close to rivalling my size, and insanely muscular. Dressed in soft woollen black balaclava and military style jersey and bullet proof vest, he threw himself backwards and brought his legs up to meet my tight stomach muscles under my lunge, lifting me up and tossing me over the top of him, sprawling onto the ground.  

Snarling, I sprang back to my feet and slashed clumsily at his shoulder. Such an uncalculated move caught him unaware and my paw grew wet with his blood. I howled in delight, springing at him again and grabbing his shoulders, snapping at his hidden neck. 

“Fuck!”

His voice was deep, and strangulated. He punched me soundly in the snout and again in the neck, forcing me off. I choked, shaking my head before turning my gaze on him again and baring my teeth and slinking into the shadows. He may have survived this long, but once I mastered the shadows, he was defenceless. He couldn’t tell from which way I’d attack. 

My sore nose complained inside my head, and I rubbed at it absentmindedly, pawing silently in the darkness of the trees, circling him. He crouched in the tiny clearing, twisting and turning and glaring through the eye holes of his face mask. 

It was then I realised that his scent didn’t match the ones of the men who attacked us first. He must’ve been a different soldier, one sent to recover me whilst the originals held my bride still. Still, like a bird in a cage. Not a free animal, a wolf. 

Counting the heartbeats, I attacked him completely off the beats. He couldn’t react as my claws sunk into either side of his neck and tore outwards, my body thudding his to the ground. I gouged out either side of his neck, tearing out the two main blood vessels and catching the windpipe between my teeth, yanking it loose. 

In my primal joy of the kill, I didn’t hear the _ziiip_ of a series of darts in the rancid air, but I felt the five or six stings as the cords embedded themselves in my shoulder blade. I turned, to tear at them, but a wave of electricity floored me, howling in pain. 

Another came shortly after it, and then another and another until my shivering form lay helpless on the floor. 

I couldn’t move, I could barely whimper. 

Figures stepped out into my field of vision, their forms shimmering with moonlight on their clothing. Soft grey jumpers, black cord jeans, boots. Military. Or close.

“Is Rake ok?”

The voice was male, obviously in control. Two boots moved over to my corpse, and knelt down to check, pulling off the balaclava and bringing the reek of blood into the air. 

“Dead…very,”

“Great, there goes a good mercenary,” 

“Want me to drag him to the van?”

Pause. 

“Yeah, we can fed him to this beast instead of wasting food,”

“He’s a good fighter,”

“He’s strong, fast, but uncoordinated. He’ll get better though, after a few fights,”

“Want me to get some of the boys to bag and tag him?”

“Yeah…”

The boots crunched nearer and my eyes rolled to try and see his face. A boot embedded itself into my ribs and I whined. It didn’t hurt as much as if I was human but it dug a needle or two in deeper. 

“Say goodbye to whatever you used to be, scum, you’re Meat now,”


	16. XVI: Magenta

 

I’ve never be human. So I don’t really know what a normal human would normally think coming around from falling out of it wolf and waking up human. I’m guessing it isn’t the nicest change if you’re not used to it, like Mikey would be right now, but I am. So when I realized I was waking up, and my body wasn’t the same as I last remembered it, I knew it was after dawn. 

It’s uncomfortable at first, your skeleton and muscles all ache from the change and everything’s…darker, damper, muted – the price of returning from super sharp senses to human colour vision. Mikey said that even in his new human form, his senses were ten times sharper and better than before I turned him…makes me pity humans, to be honest. 

They’ll never run free, wild. They’ll always be stuck in cages. 

Talking of cages…

I didn’t open my eyes just yet, I didn’t trust it. I didn’t like the smell of where I was, or the feel of the air against my skin. Even as a human girl, I use wolf logic. Makes life simpler. No messy emotions, no panicking. 

I remembered the day before, Mikey and I writhing together in our honeymoon flush, the blood coursing through our Bound veins. I had been enjoying my new husband, my mate. I had been cutting his skin for the Little Dragon tattoo, the mark of a werewolf. His blood had blinded my senses to the danger around us – his fingers making me drop my guard. 

And then we were shot with sleeping poison and we tried to run. I knew that if we’d managed to run fair enough away and hidden before sleeping, we could’ve waited until night-time and shaken the poison off as werewolves. 

I could tell they’d kept me drugged, I’d been out nearly an entire day, a night had past with my body changing on it’s own and without Mikey there. 

A growl developed in my throat, anger that my wedding nights and my husband had been taken away from me. How dare those men. How _dare_ they. Mikey was _mine_ , my partner, my mate, my lover. Who ever it was that stole him from me and me from him, and tried to keep me in this way, would die by these hands. 

My body ached for my mate, the Binding so fresh it made me shake from weakness to be away from him. I knew this weakness was temporary, after the first full moons together, we could cope to leave one and other, but right now, barely a day from our Binding – I yearned for him. 

Mikey. Mine. 

I heard voices speaking a long way off, the poison keeping my eyelids heavy and my tongue swollen in my mouth, my hearing muffled as well. I was heavy, drugged. I hated drugs that did that to me, even recreationally. 

“She’s changed back, sir,”

“We should get someone to clean her up, that wolf skin should be cleaned as well, as a prize,”

“Will she change again tonight?”

“Should do so – the law says the three nights of full moon,”

My blood ran cold as I heard that. They knew about me, about my Lycan skins. They knew about the moon. More werewolves, maybe? They didn’t smell of werewolf. And why would they need my pelt as a prize, and why would they attack us?

“She should be coming around soon,”

“You’re right. Get her some clothes, she’ll want to be dressed,”

Wolves don’t need human threads. I planned to slaughter these people anyway, wearing clothes would only mean they got dirty. I wondered briefly what my mate would say…or my pack. I’d been stolen, vengeance was rightfully mine to take. And I will kill when held captive. 

The room I was laid in was cold, and the floor beneath my cheek stoney and damp. I lay on my front, half curled up for warmth and protection. My discarded fur skin was being pulled off me by someone who reeked of garlic. 

My limbs were too heavy to lift and grab them, my jaw too stiff to bite at their neck. I was still heavily drugged, but it was releasing me, I could feel it losing grip on muscles. 

Hands ran over me, water dripping down my body to the floor as they washed away blood and bits of skin, cleaning me. I growled, my throat able to take enough air in. The hands withdrew quickly and someone else threw a rough blanket over me, dull thumps telling me they had dumped fresh smelling clothes near me. 

I found myself able to move more, my fingers and feet flexing nails, scratching at the stone floor under me. Opening my eyes, I could see bars surrounding me. A cage. The growl increased until I was burning with the furious rumble. How dare they!

“She’s angry…”

“No shit, Sherlock. Mrs Sharp? Magenta?”

I growled deeper, baring my canines and feeling my muscles bunch together. I clumsily paused myself up onto my knees and hands, steadily myself. My legs shook, gave way and I crashed into the side of the cage, hissing as bone struck metal and sent pain through me. There were figures surrounding the cage. 

I felt a flutter of human panic. 

I crushed it with wolven rage. 

They fell back a bit to speak in whispers. I couldn’t hear their words, my head swimming with dizziness, my stomach empty and my skull pounding with an unnatural headache. I shivered, moving into the corner furthest from the humans and pulling the blanket securely around my body, dipping my head down to rest on my knees. The growl still echoed – a permanent feature of outrage. 

I waited, counting the seconds, as the drugs lost more and more hold. I could feel myself coming back to myself – forcing the drug out. Someone approached, mistaking my retreat as fear. I wasn’t scared of them, I was misleading them. 

“Magenta Way?”

I raised my head and frowned at the man in front of me. He wore black velvet pants, boots to his knees, a white shirt with frills on the sleeves and an open, lace up V. I recognised him dimly. My memory failed me, I couldn’t place his face. All I could think was that he looked like a twat. 

“Do you want anything to eat, or drink? Would you like some help getting dressed?” he asked softly. I stared – did I want some help? Some food? Drink? 

“I want you to let me go,” I demanded at once, holding my anger in carefully. He smiled for some reason. 

“We will, we will – we put you in there just whilst you were a wolf,”

He spoke as if he revered me, in awe of me. I narrowed my eyes. I expected fear from humans, curiosity, maybe disgust or misunderstanding…but this was something else. By the way he was dressed, the way he spoke…I didn’t trust him already. Anyone who worshipped werewolves was a nutcase and an easy meal. 

“Then let me _go,_ ” I hissed, glaring at him. 

He bit his lip, coming closer to the cage and looking inside. 

“I can’t, not yet. Are you sure you wouldn’t like something? We can get you anything you desire,”

“I desire my mate, and my freedom – let me out,” I growled. He frowned. 

“Your mate…the man you call Michael, but who told us he was Max,”

My blood ran cold. “You’ve seen him? Where is he?”

He shook his head. “No, not now. He came to us a month ago or so, talked to us and left. It wasn’t until I saw him at City Hall with you that I thought more on him, and you. I saw your tattoo, your holy mark,”

He pointed to my breast, the pervert. I looked at the Little Dragon and ran a nail across it. Mikey…you went to these people? Why?

“Who are you?” I asked. 

“We are your disciples, your followers. We worship you!”

“Then you’re fools,”

He shook his head. “We love you,”

“Then release me,”

“I can’t yet,”

“Why the fuck not?!” I yelled, growing angry. “I may be a fucking werewolf, but I’m also a fucking US citizen now, I know my fucking rights and this is unlawful arrest, this is kidnap! This is practically rape – Lord knows what you could’ve done to me after attacking me and my husband and drugging us and locking us up away from each other and –“

“We don’t have your husband,”

My breath caught in my throat. “What?!”

The man looked ashamed of himself. “He threw himself down a ravine, we didn’t think he survived…he’s not here, Magenta, we think he’s-“

“DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY IT! DON’T YOU SAY IT!” I screamed, jumping up to my feet and letting the towel drop. They all fucking adverted their eyes from me and I snarled. “LET ME GO! YOU BASTARDS, YOU CAN’T HOLD ME HERE!”

“Please, Magenta, calm-“

“STOP USING MY NAME LIKE YOU’RE ALLOWED TO! YOU’RE NOTHING TO ME, SO DON’T SPEAK TO ME LIKE A FRIEND!” I screamed. They weren’t part of my pack, or my community – they were enemies. And enemies don’t use each other’s love names. My mother gave me that name in love and care, and I carry it with pride and let only my loved ones use it. Not these humans. 

“Please, Holy One, -“

“If I’m your Holy One then let me the fuck out! I fucking command you!”

A door grated open and someone entered the room. I couldn’t see their face due to the light coursing through the doorway behind them. I hissed, blinded temporarily and backing away from the bars, rubbing my eyes. My chest ached with the panic surging through it. 

Mikey couldn’t be dead, he wasn’t. I’d feel it if we’d gone. I’d feel it. He was alive, he was searching for me, I knew it. He’d come for me, or I’d escape. Either way, we’d be together again. 

I looked up as the newcomer neared the bars of the cage and smiled at me. 

“Hello, Mrs Way, my name is Eric. Please excuse Ashe, he lacks social skills of any kind. I’m going to let you out now,”

Big mistake, Eric. 


	17. XVII: Magenta

 ‘Eric’ moved away from the cage, turning to Ashe who rushed forward eagerly. I could smell the awe in the room, not just towards me but towards Eric. He was respected. Well, in a few minutes, he’d be lumps of meat, but respected lumps of meat. 

I slumped against the side of the cage, watching them all carefully. I tried to act weary, like the drugs still affected me. Surprise is the best tool for any hunter. Any killer. I grasped down at the blanket, I didn’t like the looks the men in the room gave me. Tough luck if they thought anything fun was going to happen.  

The front was unlocked quickly, the bar clicking free of the hold, and the door swinging open. I ignored the hand offered to me and stumbled out, letting my feet grip the cold stone floor. I hissed, the cool air made the skin all over my body tingle, and my dreadlocks tickled the small of my back and shoulders. I heard the fragile tinkling of one of the bells sewn into the tip. I looked up, and saw the awe mingled with lust in the eyes of the man releasing me – Ashe. 

I narrowed my eyes as his eyes travelled up and down the parts of me he could see, the blanket coming to the tops of my thigh if I held it just over my hardened nipples. The growl returned and I lashed out without meaning to. I belonged to Mikey! My nails, the long, black sharp talons I left long and ugly on the ends of my fingers caught him in the side of the neck and dug in.

Blood bubbled around my knuckles as I gouged and the smell hit me. Ashe’s eyes widened stupidly as his mouth opened and closed and he crumpled to the floor at my feet, my hands now covered in warm blood. He gasped and moaned, blood spurting out at an angle from his neck as he clutched at it, his shirt saturated. 

“Dear Lord…” muttered Eric, turning back at the disturbance. No one else had moved near me, only their eyes and mouths showed how scared they were of me, how shocked at the blood colouring the floor in splatters, of their leader choking to death. 

I looked down at the soon-to-be corpse and then back up at Eric. He was aiming a small device at me, I knew what would come out the end – what it would do to me. 

I didn’t move. The growl grew worse. 

“Good girl,” 

The growl increased. He waved the device. “Come on, Mrs Way, calm down – don’t make me knock you out again,”

My frown deepened. “Let me go,”

“Sorry, I can’t do that – please get dressed. You’re making my men uncomfortable,”

I felt a sneer deepened on my face. “Oh, I’m so sorry if my assault, kidnap and defensive reaction to be visually molested has caused an inconvenience or discomfort to you and your men,” I snarled. Eric smiled slightly. 

“Sparky girl. I meant your nudity,”

I raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have to deal with that if you hadn’t ambushed me on my honeymoon,” I hissed. Bloodlust, the taste of it in the air, calmed me slightly. Gave me a power head rush that held my temper. 

“Mrs Way, please get dressed,”

It was only the chill spreading through me that made me reach down and pull on the rough canvas trousers they’d left, they bagged around my legs and barely clung to my hips. The bra was too small and pinched, and the top went down to my thighs and over my hands, bagging in soft grey folds. But it was warm, it covered me and I kinda liked it, despite the rest of this situation sucking beyond belief.

“What do you want with me? And my mate? Why did you attack us?” I asked, bending down and dipping my nails back into Ashe’s cooling neck. His dead eyes stared at me – a final look of awe. I tasted the cold blood and met Eric’s eyes again. 

“We knew you wouldn’t come to us by choice, none do, so we…took you, I suppose. We need you, Mrs Way,”

I laughed.

“We worship you, and your kind. The werewolves,”

I laughed again. “That’s stupid – we’re animals, killers,” I said gently. “And we don’t trust humans like you…trust me, if you didn’t have that little rape device, you’d all be dead,”

I let the words travel through the room, looking at each of the men one by one. They could feel it, they knew I could do it. I hated them all so much. The taste of blood rang through me, a deep hunger. I wanted it again – the taste of fresh, pumping blood. I wanted to hunt, kill again. 

“This isn’t a rape device,” he said softly, smiling at the idea. 

“You can’t prove what you and your men might or might not have done to me while I was out, but if I ever get proof you’ve touched me in any way, I’ll make you pay for taking another wolf’s wife,”

“Technically speaking, your husband is-“

“I wouldn’t say it. That device is the only thing stopping me from happily massacring you with my own bare claws,” I replied calmly, my temper drowned in the wolf logic. Be nice to the biggest predator. 

“Technically speaking, you don’t have cla-“

“ _Technically_ speaking, I’m meant to be blissfully climaxing in my mate’s arms,” I hissed softly, trying to make them all a bit more uncomfortable. 

“Technically speaking, you’re our prey, our werewolf god, we caught you,”

“I’m nobodies property in any way, I’m a person, I’m a free person,” I hissed, my temper beginning to rise. “And I’m a killer,”

Eric waved the taser. 

“Then I’ll keep this here, Mrs Way. We’d rather you felt at home here-“

“Never going to happen, arsehole,”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry for that, my dear, come on – I’ll take you to your room,”

“I’m not moving,”

Eric looked around at his men and nodded. I hissed when they all pulled out similar drugging devices, aiming them at me. I bared my canines, dropping down and raising my claws again. 

“Here, kitty, kitty,” whispered Eric’s voice. The menace in the room was almost overpowering. Wolf logic is simple. Survival. I didn’t want to get hurt, I didn’t want to be drugged again. At the moment, no matter what my human temper said, my wolf logic told me to back down, surrender. Docile, I moved forward, the growl dropping. 

“Excellent…come on, dear, that’s a good little werewolf,”

“I’m not your pet!” I hissed. 

“No, you’re our idol,”

“Then there’s something very, very wrong with you,”

He smiled. “I know,”

As I passed him, my eyes burnt into his. 

We both felt it – my hate. My anger. My extreme fury. He knew I wanted to kill him, and I knew he wanted something else from me. Something I didn’t know about yet. Something that scared me.   


	18. XVIII: Mikey

I smelt blood before I smelt anything else. My nose was busted in, I could feel it throbbing. There was dried blood on my lips and nearly every limb ached and burnt with bruises rising up. I was lying on the floor, on my back, and my ribs cracked into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe without rasping. 

I couldn’t hear anything over the blood pounding in my ears. 

The muscles in my arms tightened, travelling down to my hands, clawing at the ground with my fingernails. 

“I think he’s waking up, sir,”

I heard footsteps, so close to my ears I flinched. 

“Oi, scum, alive down there?”

The reek of wet leather hit my nostrils as a boot tip prodded the side of my head harshly. I groaned and forced my eyes to open. The light shining in my eyes didn’t help matters, I couldn’t see anything beyond it. There were figures around me, watching me, but I couldn’t see their faces or any features. I could smell them though. Sweat, male skin, bad breath, metal, leather…it all washed in with the metallic tang of my own scent and blood. 

Somewhere, in the back of my aching back, a little voice laughed at how stupid this all was. Not at the fact Mags was gone as well, and I was belted to the floor, but at how well I was dealing. If I were human, I would have panicked. But now, with my red and black eyes flashing up at the malicious shadows above me, all I felt was feral anger. And what Mags called the ‘wolf logic’ telling me to play dead, play nice. 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” muttered a voice. The boot came back, placing the flat of it’s toes on my forehead and squeezing. My teeth bared in a pained hiss, the back of my head ringing with pain. 

“Look at those canines, he’s a real beast,”

“I didn’t think their fangs were that big in human form,”

Short pause, and then the same man replied to his own statement. “Must have something to do with full moon,”

“You know he killed Rake, don’t you?”

“Yes, I helped chop that guy up for food,”

“Do you think he needs to go through the trial?”

Pause. The boot left my head. 

“I don’t think so. Rake was one of the biggest, meanest mercenaries we had…he’s taken down hundreds of slabs of Meat for us – this kid slaughtered him in seconds,”

“But he’s still so uncoordinated, inexperienced,”

“Must be a young gun. He can’t be over 23, 24,“

“We should still test him properly before we auction him to the Dealers,”

“Yeah, probably. But I have a feeling this one’s a keeper, we might just hold onto him for the Hunters,”

There was a silence and I opened my eyes again, searching in the obnoxious light shining down on me for faces, anything to paint features and expressions to the voices deciding my fate. It was now my numb body registered the bonds gripping me at my wrists and ankles, pinning me to a crucifix on the floor. I also realised I was naked. None of this made me feel any better. 

“We only keep the fighters,”

“What makes you think he’s not a fighter? We both saw him,”

“He was defending himself, we don’t know if he’s the kind of fighter we want. He looks…moral,”

“Worst kind of Meat, you’re right. We’ll see. Can you talk scum?”

The frown on my face grew, my eyes narrowing. Add insult to injury why not. I nodded with difficultly, my neck cracking and causing a slight wince. The man above me chuckled. 

“Bit sore, eh? Well next time don’t fight back to _us_ and we won’t have to beat you,”

He made it sound as if he was scolding a puppy.  

I didn’t say anything in return, and the man already bending over crouched down closer to me. I could see light stubble scratching his jaw line, a smug smile, a nose that had been broken in the past. I couldn’t see his eyes. 

“So you can talk – I’d like you to reply to me, and call me Sir,”

My throat echoed air from my lungs, my mouth opening in a growl I twisted into a word. 

“Yes…Sir,”

“Any idea who we are?”

“No…Sir,”

“Probably a good thing. We are Hunters, and you are Meat,”

No one said anything for a while. 

“Why…why did you attack-“

“Attack you? We captured you, after tracking you. We are…bounty hunters, I guess. We hunt creatures like you,”

I frowned, cocking my head to the side. “Like me?”

“Werewolves, lycans – wolf men. Whatever name they go by. All the different breeds, shapes, sizes – we hunt them, track them, capture them – and work them,”

“Work them?”

“We’ll explain that later. Now, laddie, answer a few questions for us,”

“Only if I get to ask a few in return,” I bargained. The guy made a ‘tsk’ noise. 

“Cheeky pup, aren’t you?”

“I get that way when I wake up strapped to the floor, naked, and very sore,”

“Just a precaution. Not many of the slabs of Meat we capture are as calm as you when they first wake up,”

“You wonder why?”

“No, I don’t,”

I tsked – I was surprised myself at my own docile nature. “Are you holding my mate as well?”

“Ah…you have a mate?”

“Didn’t you know that?” I asked, my body jerking in surprise. The man above me shook his head. 

“No, we thought we were tracking just you…that does explain why so much of that moose was devoured,”

“You don’t have her? Do you know where she is? She was taken!”

There was a silence. 

“You have a mate…a female. And she was taken,”

“Yes! Are you sure you didn’t take her?”

There was a silence. “No…none of the hunters brought in a female, or even reported seeing one. Do you see her being taken?”

I nodded with difficulty. The man stood up and backed away, I heard him whispering orders. Orders to do with checking for any other trackers in the area, any organisations…

Hairy Helpers. It had to be them, those fuckers. My teeth bared in a growl, anger burning inside me. I’d kill them! I’d break free and track them down and claw their –

“Meat, quiet down,”

The man was back. I tried to quieten my growls, but it didn’t work, I still felt seething rage inside me. The wolf howling revenge. A boot shoved me in the ribs and I cried out sharply in shock. 

“No one knows anything about your mate…how long have you been together?”

I didn’t reply. 

“Come on, Meat, we’re not going to hurt you if you talk, we might even help you,”

I narrowed my eyes, and consented. 

“Six…six years,” I growled. 

“Are you a Pure Blood?”

“No,”

“Is she?”

“Yes,”

“She turned you?”

“Yes,”

“How long ago?”

“First night of full moon, this cycle,”

“Two nights ago then…a new pup, then. Explains this,” said the man, tapping the half finished, healing tattoo Magenta craved into my chest. 

“She was marking me when we were first attacked,”

“Do you have any idea who by?”

I nodded. “A group, a group of werewolf wannabes,” 

There were a few chuckles. “You know them?”

I mumbled “Kinda…”, my face slumping to the side in shame. 

A gloved hand tapped my face back up towards the light, almost tenderly. 

“What’s her name, laddie?”

I didn’t reply for what seemed ages. “Magenta…my wife…”

There was a silence. 

“That’s a lovely name, she’s sounds like a nice girl…but she’s gone, your life’s gone – nothing of your old life remains. You are now Meat,”

“Meat?” I echoed, dread weighing down in my stomach. 

“Yes. You will live, you will fight, and if you win you continue to live. If you die, you become food. You are Meat,”


	19. XIX: Mikey

They unchained my arms first, and forced me to sit upright, ignoring my winces of pain. The tied my wrists together with plastic cords, and unshackled my feet. Two hands yanked me upright onto my feet and they forced me to walk. I was so stiff, so dizzy from the sudden altitude, my head swam and my feet stumbled blindly as they dragged me. 

They dumped me down onto the same cold floor of a cell and the metal clang of a door rolling shut echoed through my aching skull. I lay on the floor for a bit, gasping for breath against sore ribs, and eventually managed to pull myself upright, pushing my body up against the wall and shivering. 

“What’s your name, pup?”

I started in shock. In my human form, I’d forgotten how dull my sense of smell was. I opened my eyes, blinking past the spots of light and found the dim light worked to my favour. My small cell was bathed in shadows, with a dim argon lamp outside in the corridor – lighting up the man who spoke to me earlier perfectly. 

He was an older man, over 50, and bald. His face was lined with both wrinkles and fierce scars, and one of his eyes held a bloody bandage over it with tape. I could hear a Scottish accent rounding his words as he sat down on a bench near my cell, all hostility dropped. 

“Who wants to know?” I panted, shaking. The man smiled a bit, his eyebrows raising. 

“You are a cheeky pup, aren’t you?”

I shrugged. “Like we’ve already established – today isn’t the best honeymoon I’ve ever had,”

“Recent marriage?”

I nodded. “A week, I insisted…she hates marriage and human things like that,”

The man smirked. “Pure Bloods are headstrong creatures…I must say, you’re dealing with this all very, very well,”

I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be fooled – I’d kill you if I thought I could get away with it,”

“Very good. Have you killed anyone in the brief time you’ve been a Lycan?”

“No…doesn’t mean I can’t, or won’t,”

“Good pup. Stand up, let me cut that cord for you, and get you something to wear,”

“Why am I here?”

“This is a holding cell, you’re going to have a trial before the auction…but I must say, I like your spine. I think we’ll just keep you for ourselves,”

“You said…” I muttered, forcing myself to my feet. “Is it too much to ask for an explanation? As in the trial, the auction, the Hunters – what is this? A werewolf souvenir store?” I grunted, wincing as my shoulders cracked. I backed up to the bars, and the man rose to his feet, pulling out a small knife. 

“Arms out,”

He zipped in and cut the plastic cord before I could even consider grabbing the knife, or him. My arms fell free and I felt better for it. 

“We are the Hunters. We’re an underground organisation, and we’re part of a bigger community. The Hunters do just that – hunt down werewolves. The community we work for is sort of like a werewolf boxing ring, but the fights are to the death,”

I turned sharply, my eyes narrowing. “Death matches?”

He nodded. “It used to be yield or defeat, but once a wolf gets going, it’s very hard for them to stop, it seems. Blood lust in an animal as feral as a wolf is insatiable,” he said, with awe in his voice. 

“You sound as if you admire us,”

He smiled, backing up to a cupboard door and pulling out some soft orange slacks – very similar to prison clacks.

“I do – I think the wolves are wonderful creatures, brilliant fighters…I have to admit, I love the hunt, the chase. I don’t care about the kills, I just look after the wolves between capture and kill,”

I snorted, pulling on the clothes he tossed through the bars. “You make it sound so civilised,”

He shook his head. “It’s anything but. I’m just polite. Do I have to remind you to call me Sir?”

I didn’t say anything. He turned back to me and advanced on the edge of the cage. 

“Yougr calmness is worrying, pup – what tricks have you got up your sleeves?”

I laughed at that, sinking down to the floor again. “Fuck all!” I laughed. “Unlike my Magenta, I seem to have a good grasp on my temper…iron bars and the knowledge you can shoot me any time you please results in me being very polite…you seem like a sensible man…so I won’t upset you by being offensive…Sir,”

I spoke the truth – I had a firm lid on the animal anger burning inside me, and the human panic. I was a lake of calm, of calculated etiquette. 

“Good lad. I like you already. We’re still going to make you do the trial, but I’m not putting you up for auction – you’re staying on the Hunters team, I’m keeping you near,”

I inclined my head. “Thank you…what is this trial you keep referring to, Sir?”   

I hated calling him Sir. The life I lived with Magenta had gotten me used to an existence of unabashed rudeness to every one who wasn’t someone close, and I and my mate had apologised to no one – we controlled our own universes and answered to no one for our actions. The word Sir felt like poison in my mouth.

“It’s a way of testing new Meat before offering it up to the Dealers, the buyers. We simply put you up against another wolf. Since this is a full moon night, it should be an interesting fight,” he stated. “And your first kill under the Hunters,”

“If you’re keeping me, why make me fight?” I asked, rolling my joints. The man sat himself down, leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees. 

“You never answered my question,” he stated, ignoring mine. “What’s your name?”

“Tell me yours first,”

He stared at me, as if judging whether to beat me again or respond. “They call me Charles, or Charlie,”

I nodded. “I’m Mikey,” I responded. “Do you have to make me fight? I don’t want to kill other wolves,”

Charlie sighed and rose to his feet. “Well, there’s the problem, eh? If you don’t, you’ll die. And you’ll never find out what happened to that mate of yours,”

My eyes narrowed at the subtle threat in the air, and I watched him leave the room. “I’ll be back tonight to take you to the trial. Watch your strength until then, you’ll need it,”

He paused when an unbidden growl echoed through the room, and I covered my stomach, biting my lip. I hadn’t eaten in what seemed days. 

“Someone’ll bring you something to eat later,”

I watched him close the door and sealed me inside my new prison. That was when I released the lid on the rage inside me. That was when I let the wolf loose and opened my mouth to the screams inside my guts. I roared myself hoarse, bellowing my primal pain at the separation from my mate, the deep ache inside my bones that begged to be reunited with my Bound lover, to be running free and wild and relentless. I howled to the unseen moon, a pray, a poem to the world I belonged in, and a promise to my wife. 

We will see each other again, we shall be united again. Be it bathed in blood and seeped in death and carnage – I won’t stop until my mate was free and back in my arms. 


	20. XX: Magenta

I looked around the room they claimed was mine. It was disgusting, it was so…religious. Bare basement walls painted black and blue, with midnight blue drapes hung around it like a harem. A low bed in the centre of it, low to the ground and covered in blues and purples. 

I don’t know how to describe the feeling the room gave me. Like I was some precious, fawned over gift that had to be secreted away and locked up. It was creepy, like the walls were watching me. It was all too….odd for me to feel comfortable in it. I could feel eyes on me, I know it was crazy, but it made me feel watched, preyed on – like a cage at a zoo.

I remember Mikey once took me to a zoo, but I hated it. All those animals locked up…it made me angry and if something makes me angry very often it’s in pieces five minutes later. Mikey got me out of there before I did any damage, but now…he wasn’t here to get me out of this cage. 

I refused to believe he was dead. I could feel his presence, his wolf spirit inside my bones. Pressing out from my lungs, my belly, my hands – I knew he was alive. And I knew he was angry. It hurts to be away from your pack, and it hurts to be away from your mate for any period of time…freshly Bound it was like ripping the umbilical cord out and I felt weak because of it. 

The room, despite being underground, was warm and I found myself growing weary of my screaming and attacking a door obviously reinforced. A beautiful prison and no matter how loud I yelled for release, or rammed up against the door, or cut at the hinges with my nails I couldn’t get free. I turned back to the room, sweaty, exhausted and ten times as angry. My skin burnt with heat and my muscles shook. 

Growling, I sunk to the floor, leaning against the door and panting for fresh air. I felt cramped in, scared. This wasn’t like my nest, or a hole in the earth – there wasn’t a source of fresh, cold air, or an escape route. 

My stomach clenched suddenly and I moaned, lurching to the side and throwing up. My eyes screwed shut against the sharp scent of bile and my stomach contracted again, releasing another stinking wave of stomach bile. Finally, when my muscles relaxed and I was able to whisk away the two stubborn tears of pain from the corners of my eyes, I crawled away from the door and went to the corner, curling up. 

I laid my head down on my knees and thought about my Mikey, and the night we spent together hunting. I’d never felt so close to him, or to anything. I wanted him back, my Mikey. 

Without me realising, a whine came out of my throat – a soft, low whine of loneliness. I pined for my mate.

I hoped Mikey was ok, he was a new wolf, this pain would be so much worse for him. He’d never encountered the sublime simplicity of the wolf logic, the rage and pain in entailed – kill, eat, mate, sleep. Pure anger, the overwhelming hatred that I entertained occasionally. Ok, every day. He must’ve been going psycho alone – but at least I knew he was coming after me. He’d track me, kill everyone in his way, and reunite us. 

I’m ashamed to say that in the next two, three, four hours I did two things I would never admit to doing. Crying. And praying. 

 

“Oh, Holy One?”

The voice annoyed me just as much as the words did. I didn’t open my eyes but I was awake, curled up in the corner of the room. I hadn’t even touched the covers of the bed, or the drapes. The entire room reeked of bad vibes, a creepy sense of being watched and adored. Studied. Fawned over. 

“Holy One?”

“It’s Mrs Way, thank you very much,” I snapped moodily, opening my eyes and sitting up, my nails itching to do some damage to those irritating vocal chords. 

“Mrs Way…how do you feel?”

I had to laugh at the stupidity of that question. How did I feel? Murderous. 

“Mrs Way?”

“Ha! Fuck you – how do I feel?!”

The condescending tone took a more ‘pitying’ tone – that the twat on the other end ‘understood’ me. 

“We all sorry for all this, but we knew both of you would resist us,”

“Ya think? What the fuck do you want with me anyway?” I growled, standing up and looking at the ceiling, at the speaker box talking to me. Whoever was on the other end was too chicken to face me, it seems. 

“We want to be you,”

I choked. I admit it, I sucked in my breath so hard I  choked on it and froze in mild horror. Be me? A werewolf? The idea was…scandalous, ridiculous, horrifying – it went against everything a wolf stood for. Werewolves were fiercely loyal beings, and usually insane too, and they only turned one, maybe two people in their entire lifetime. We couldn’t become too prominent, we couldn’t share our secrets with too many people – too dangerous, just look at the mess it had caused! A group of idiots stealing wolves out of their lives for their own means. 

To become a werewolf was to become trusted, and this wasn’t trustworthy. 

“You can’t,” I whispered. The voice paused, probably watching my reaction. 

“We must, we’re worthy of the title of lycan – we must join you holy ones!”

I laughed again, I couldn’t seem to help it – this entire situation was skewed out of the bounds of reality. Apart from puking, crying and looking for Jesus, the only last few things left to do were kill and laugh. 

The killing came later. 

“You’re not worthy! Humans are turned because they’re loved or treasured or something! You _stole_ me! You deserve to die!” I cried back, anger brimming in me again. I got stiffly to my feet and advanced on the camera aimed at me, bearing my teeth. The night was approaching, I could feel it. 

“You can’t force me to change _anyone_!”

The voice was silent for so long, I thought they’d gone. 

“Mrs Way, could you please raise both hands into the air?”

“What?!”

I was shocked by that. “Why the fuck should I?”

I heard the doors clang open, and guns being cocked. I turned to find six rifles being aimed at me by men clothed in black. The wolf in me paced in agitation, the human panicked. “Ah,” I muttered, slowly raising my arms. I hissed as they crept into the room, surrounding me. “You fucking cowards! You cunty bastards! This is how you treat people, even if they _are_ your goddamn ‘holy ones’?”

I gave a short bellow of rage, my hands going to my head and bunching my dreads. I had an intense headache, and rage wasn’t helping. 

“Dear Lord, you people have no respect for anyone, do you? I’m on my honeymoon and you’ve just…you’ve fucking ruined my life!” I yelled, so angry my body felt like it was on fire.  

“Mrs Way, please calm down,”

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed, my jaw straining to open wide enough to voice the volume I wanted to. I gave another short roar and dropped to my knees, slamming my hands against the floor and roaring through gritted teeth. “JUST FUCK YOU!”

“Mrs Way-“

“JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I screamed, sitting back up. The angry cries in my throat died, the gun nozzle staring me in the eyes unforgiving. “I…I fucking hate you,”

“Nice to know,” said the man in front of me, his eyes fixed on me. “Please get up,”

Growling, I rose to my feet and held my hands up. One of them threw a loop around my wrist and tightened it, making me hiss. They looped it around my other wrist and bound me. I couldn’t even move my hands, the ropes around them were so tight. One of them walked forward. 

“Do we have to put a mask on you, or will you play nice?”

I hissed. “I’d rather be gagged than obey you,”

The guy didn’t respond, just nodded and a leather mask wrapped itself around my lower face, over my nose and teeth, and tightening over my dreads. I moaned at the cutting feeling across my cheeks from the corners of the mask. I caught a look of myself in the mirror and growled – I looked like Hannibal Lector in this mask.

Only the malice flashing in my eyes was real. 

They pulled me out of the room, leading me down several corridors until we reached a white metal door and they pushed me through into some sort of shitty medical room. The whites were grimy white tile and the lights hurt my eyes at first, used to the gloom of the room I’d been stuck in. There were two metal gurneys and a bench running around the sides of the room covered in medical equipment. There were two other men in there, waiting for me. A doctor, and Eric. 

I looked around at the equipment with mild apprehension. I remembered my dad telling me Bogeyman stories about places where they took people like us apart, trying to figure out our second skins. I felt the hairs stand up on my body, a prickle of fear crossing across my flesh. 

“So what now?” I demanded, meeting Eric’s eyes and trying not to let the quake in my voice obvious, even thought the barred mask muffled me “You’re just going to cut me open? You think you’re going to figure out how to turn yourselves from my guts?” I asked harshly. Eric’s smile only infuriated me further. 

“Oh no, we know how to turn, full moon, neck bone, biting, etc – I just want to make sure you’re healthy before I let you change anyone,”

I snorted, quite really wasn’t nice in this mask. “ _Let me?_ What, like I’m _begging_ to turn you bunch of cunts?”

Eric ignored me and motioned to the guys holding guns behind me. I got shoved further into the room and poked onto the metal bench. It was cold and I felt even more insecure on the cold table, surrounded by men. The doctor came forward as they untied me and strapped my arms down onto the cold bench. 

“You better not do anything stupid,” I warned, narrowing my eyes. The dudes with guns backed up, but Eric smiled, and reached down to stroke a dreadlock off my scalp and away from my face. 

“We wouldn’t hurt you, holy one,”

“Stop calling me that!” I snapped as the doctor advanced. He ignored me completely as he began checking me. I hated every second of being touched, as he checked my heartbeat, my blood pressure, drew blood, checked my bones – all that crap. I smoked, I drank, I took drugs and I was still in the peak of physical fitness, so all this was just insulting. 

It didn’t help my mood. 

I was burning a hole in the back of Eric’s head when he turned and looked at me, a surprised, almost awed look on his face. He and doctor had been reviewing the doctors notes. 

“Have you thrown up at any point?” asked the doctor, turning as well. 

“Yeah,” I grunted, still glaring. 

“I see…it’s clear then, very likely possibility,” muttered the doctor to Eric. 

“What is?” I yelled, straining at the bonds. A mercenary stepped forward, only to be waved away by Eric. The black clad leader walked over to me, and leaned over me – smiling like he was _proud_ of me. 

“Congratulations, Mrs Way…the pitter patter of little paws might be expected in 9 weeks,”


	21. XXI: Mikey

They brought me chunks of raw, bloody meat. The men who brought it regarded me with cold, angry eyes and I knew as they chucked it through the bars, that this was the meat from their comrade that I’d killed in the woods. 

“Eat up, freak,”

I had been sitting in the shadowy corner, watching them as they dragged a sack in through the door. It was saturated with thick, juicy blood and left a trail on the floor. The chunks were badly cut, hacked off bones and stripped of skin. But they still smelt human. I met their eyes from the gloom, the rings of shimmering red in my black eyes glinting as the smell reached me. 

“Not hungry, cheers,”

I was hungry, but I wasn’t an animal. I wasn’t going to rip meat with my bare hands and teeth while they watched. We were both silent as minutes passed, them staring, waiting for me to move and eat their friends. I could smell the testosterone oozing out of their pores in the form of sweat. They were going to beat the shit out of me if I even licked the blood drying on the cold slabs. 

I had to admit, I wanted a fight. I was pissed off, and in pain – both psychical and something deeper than that – and charged to the teeth with animal strength and power. They didn’t stand a chance if they came at me, I could feel the power brimming in my muscles as I flexed my arms and legs, curling my toes and fingers in the shadows. My nails clacked as I drummed them on the floor. I fought hard to keep my grumbling stomach quiet as I faced off the two malevolent guards. 

One clicked open the gun holster at his side and slid the tranquilliser gun free of the hold. 

“We said eat,” he threatened, clicking the safety off. I chuckled, letting the malicious little noise echo through the cold stone room. I could hear their heartbeats increase. Was this what it was like for Magenta, every day? This heightened sense of surrounding? I could hear everything, the sounds of their stomachs digesting, the rustle of their toes in their boots, the pulsing of their hearts. I could smell the raw, masculine anger in their sweat, the blood on their hands – under their nails where the dried soap couldn’t reach it – the semen and urine on the inside of their boxers. That made me chuckle some more.

“I’m not hungry,” I replied. 

“We said eat, motherfucker!”

They opened the cage door when my chuckles increased, pulling out heavy metal sticks rather than guns. They almost slipped on the blood on the floor, but I didn’t stop them as they beat me – raining down blows with the heavy metal sticks on my head, neck, shoulders, kicking at my stomach and legs. My chuckle grew into manic laughter, the dull aches of pain cancelling out to barely anything once they got into it. I lay there, completely unbothered as they pummelled my body and bruised my skin and kicked in my jaw. 

It only warmed me up. 

They fell back eventually, leaving me lying in my own blood, laughing my head off. 

“What’s so funny, freak?” demanded one, panting from exhaustion, still holding their weapons close. I kept laughing, my voice high and bouncing off the high stone walls and metal bars of my cage. 

“You just better belt up, Meat!” yelled the another, raising his arm with the stick ready to bring it down on my open, laughing face. My eyes glinted as he swung. There was a rush of movement, a crunch or two and then he was yelling in pain, his wrist held tightly in my clawed hand and held at the wrong angle. The freshly broken bones scratched my palm under his pliable skin and I felt his pulse rocket, blood gushing to the wounds. His screams almost blinded my sense of hearing, but it didn’t matter – his friend was so shocked he couldn’t do anything but gape at me as I jumped lightly to my feet and twisted the captive arm, almost doubling the screams as more bones snapped and popped out of joint. With my free hand I brought it around in a fast, flowing arc and dug my nails like a knife into the side of his neck, so exposed and tender. The blood spurted warm around my fingers and I snapped my thumb around to wrap his throat completely in my fierce grip. Digging in my hand, still twisting his arm almost completely out of joint, I ripped back – tearing his windpipe free of his throat and dropping his corpse to the floor. 

The screams now silent, I turned to his companion, licking the blood off my fingers and smiling. My eyes flashed with red, and my throat purred with bloodlust. The thrill of the hunt was all that consumed me now, none of that messy human guilt or fear of consequence. My prey was cornered; the cage side hit his back as he moved away from me. 

“S-Stay there! Stay where you are!” he cried, his voice high and panicked. I smelt the fear on his skin, licking my lips. The air was thick with it, I could both smell and taste everything between hunter and hunted. Like it was something tangible, dragging across my face, focussing me solely on this creature. 

He pulled free the gun from its holster and clicked off the safety. I laughed again, letting my swollen, beaten limbs and face glow in the dim light piercing the bars. Each step I took towards him was silent. Blood dripped off my hands and squelched in each footstep, splattered across my white vest and the orange prison slacks tied up to encompass my waist. 

“Don’t you want me to belt up?” I asked, baring my teeth and growling. His stuttered cries reminded me of the dying moose my mate and I killed together. My Magenta, I knew she out of my entire pack, would understand the cruelty in me now. She knew the animal superiority. 

I lunged off the beat, twisting to the side of the gun. He still shot in surprise, and I hissed as the dart hit me in the neck, cutting through a ridge of cartilage and lodging in my windpipe. I ignored the hit as my hands landed on the man’s neck, and snapped it to the side, my body slamming him harshly into the side of the cell and pinning his wriggling, squealing carcass as I sunk my canines into his neck and ripped away, breaking his neck in one fluid motion.

I stepped back, letting the body crumble to the floor and breathing heavily as the taste of blood swirled around my taste buds and down my throat with each gasping swallow of the tangy, hot liquid. The drug was beginning to work; I could feel the sinking, cold tingle as it moved through me. 

“Fuck…” I moaned, swaying and almost hitting the bars, one hand out to steady myself. “Who’s meat now?” 

The two men didn’t answer and I chuckled as I swayed again, feeling light headed, dizzy. The blood tasted so good, I could feel the wolf in me howling, but the man in me dropping down. I crunched onto the floor, onto my knees, my head back as I gasped for breath. It was a superhuman effort to lift my hand to pull the dart free of my throat and feel blood dribble from the wound. My body sang with pain from the beating, but it all washed away as I slipped backwards onto the floor and twisted – collapsing onto my face. 

“Fuck…” I moaned again, my eyes beginning to droop. The door in front of me opened, boots walking into my field of vision as drool dropped from my open lips to the floor. 

“Oh dear, Mikey…” said Charlie’s voice. I saw him squat down and look me in the eye through the bars. “What a mess,”

I groaned, starting to feel numbness creep over me helplessly. The animal in me growled in anger at the idea of being vulnerable. 

“When you wake up, it’ll be time for the trial. You’ll be transformed, and brutal…kill well, and play for the crowds – do me proud, little werewolf…and maybe, just maybe, we’ll see what we can do for your little mate,”

 


	22. XXII : Magenta

A cub? Me? Gods no…please don’t let that be true. 

I was ashamed to say I was once again in my beautiful prison, curled up in the corner and crying. I have never cried like this before in my life – twice in one day and I couldn’t stop it. Huge, messy sobs and small wails. I didn’t want to be pregnant, I didn’t want to bring a child into this world. I was the worst possible candidate to mother a child, another life form – one that relied on me. My own mother died at the hands of my father, how do I know this child couldn’t expect the same level of brutality? 

I would never kill my Mikey…but death, blood, murder – this was all regular for a werewolf. Running wild, running free and running away. Moving constantly to avoid detection, secretive ways and violent natures –all to keep people away from us. I’d already slipped and formed a human pack, and settled into a home. I’d even become house trained and gotten married like a human. I couldn’t bear a cub and care for it. 

I was…too violent, too harsh to supply any maternity to anything. I could barely show sympathy freely.  

I stayed in the corner for hours and hours, my hands clasped over my womb as if maybe I’d feel the child kick, even this early. I was there for so long, I slipped into an awesome trance…I didn’t even notice when the door opened and Eric entered. 

He still carried that device, the only thing I was scared of now. But I was so…frozen, I didn’t even look at him as he sat down on the side of the bed facing me and watched fresh tears drip off my jaw. 

“I take it the happy mother isn’t so happy?”

I blinked slowly, freeing myself from the heavy veil of numbness. 

“Fuck off,”

“Do you ever lighten up?”

I gave him a look, glancing at the device. “No…never,”

“Are all werewolves so touchy?”

“Yeah…and even more so when they’re kidnapped and held by psychos…”

I was still exhausted, still numb. But even then my tongue couldn’t be blunted. But…there was something…

“Did…did you drug me?”

“Yes, we had to,”

I met his eyes, now understanding why my eyes dragged and my muscles felt like they were dragging through wet sand. 

“When?”

“In the examination room, you barely noticed between screaming, swearing and threatening to kill us,”

“I’m gonna do it…”

“Please stop saying that, Mrs Way, it’s rather upsetting,”

“Upsetting?! That’s all you’ve got?”

“Soon, the drug’s gonna make your body go limp, and you’ll stop being able to interrupt…I thought you deserved to know exactly what’s going on,”

I gave him another look, one filled with anger. 

“If I ever face you…in a fair fight…I’ll…eat…”

My lips stopped moving, my throat feeling closed up with warm water. I moaned, the feeling was uncomfortable. 

“So much attitude for someone so young…now, let me start at the beginning,”

Eric made himself more comfortable on the edge of the bed, slipping the device away in his pocket. I twitched my muscles, willing them to move, to attack him. I could barely keep my eyelids up to keep the glares of rage aimed at Eric. 

“The Hairy Helpers are a cover group. It’s a ridiculous name, and the group on the surface was Ashe’s domain. He worked hard to find recruits and workers for our true cause, whilst keeping a very simple look…wannabes and fanatics…only, as you might have spotted, he took it a little too seriously from time to time,”

I tried to snort, and it came out as another stunted groan. 

“This group…this Coven, have stretched back for years, centuries. We survived the Egyptian slaveries, Viking invasions, even the Salem Witch trials. When one member falls, another joins and so the circle continues. That doesn’t mean there’s a certain number to our Coven, think of it as a growing ring of fire…never stopping, rolling through time. Whilst humans have existed, so have Lycans, and so have we,”

Eric’s voice had an oddly lulling quality to it, like a father telling a child a nursery rhyme. Not my dad, obviously, but I had a feeling I knew what’d it be like. 

“We don’t have a real name, it’s changed over the years. Once it was Raq’ Al Tuala, meaning the Cult of Night Dogs. There was the Lunar Three, the Set of Lycan worshippers from Eastern Europe origins. Or Moon Men…that was during the 60s though, so that one’s less remembered…it has been our honour over the span of history to aid the Lycans,”

I wish he’d stop calling us Lycans, we’re werewolves. It may mean the same thing to you but it sure as hell didn’t to me. Lycans were men or women who changed into wolves. Werewolves are wolves that lived as men. I am a werewolf. I may have a van, and a home and friends like a human, but I have a mate of fur and teeth and blood, and a second skin. I’ll never be properly human, not matter how pink and wriggly I was born. 

“It’s been said at first we looked over your kind, offering shelter from…unpleasant attentions, lynch mobs and all that. We were always a powerful shadow elite, controlling governments and the human flock’s mind through every means possible. There was once a time Lycans were worshipped worldwide rather than feared, but it was only us who got to care for you, watch you change…and then it changed. Human fear began to grow, and Lycans became resented and persecuted and that is where we ceased being your worshippers and became your protectors…offering hiding places, food, anything desired…and always, year to year, with the hope that maybe one of us might be blessed and allowed to join the likes of the Lycans,”

Fat chance, arsehole. 

“There came the darkest time in the Coven’s history…it been well recorded in our history books. One Lycan attacked one of us, demanding to be freed, thinking that he was being held prisoner. The Coven, at that point, had never held a Lycan against his or her will, but the event ended with the Lycan killing the worshipper trying to calm him, and being killed by his wife…it didn’t help that this Lycan was hailed as a grand fighter and breeder, a prince. Chaos followed, the Lycans broke away from the Covens across the planet, and there were many, many deaths…mainly members, but some Lycan…then came the dark times in which the Lycans hunted us, drove us underground and sought to kill us all…but, as with ages and fickle creatures with no real sense of tradition, honour or family ties, the bloodlust and vengeance were lost after a few generations of Lycan and Coven…the Covens remained hidden, diminishing with history as the Lycans became hidden, and scarce in numbers. This is one of the only Covens left in the world and you, my dear, are the first Lycan to be found and hunted by this Coven for over a century,”

My eyes met his again. His story chilled me, the talk of Lycans and Covens and war and death and on a worldwide scale? I was just a bitchy Canadian, apparently pregnant, werewolf with dirty table manners, dirty language and even dirtier moves in the bedroom. Why had this managed to touch me?

“Covens in principle don’t hunt Lycans, you’re our Gods, our idols. The honour and adoration of your kind has been handed down by my forefathers, and the first books of the Coven were co written with yours as well…you know, I have a feeling that if we traced you back…”

The creep moved to lean forward, spreading a hand out towards me. I was so drugged I barely noticed it brush down my cheek tenderly. I growled without meaning to, my body reacting when my mind couldn’t. 

“You may be related to the first Lycans, the Kings and Queens of your noble, beautiful race…”

His hand continued to stroke and caress my cheek and jaw line, moving my hair back. My throat continued to rumble with displeasure. 

“As I was telling you, the reason we sought you out…this Coven is small, but it’s members are relentless, we broadcast on every frequency, we flyer every town, we even bomb the internet, doing what we’re meant to – offer help and support to Lycans. But your race seems to have retained its father’s mistrust of us, because we’ve never heard anything. It became a problem, we even worried your race had died out…we searched America for signs, men and women with black eyes and long claws, sharp teeth, splintered personalities and the tattoo…the Little Dragon…”

His hand moved down, moving the fold of my shirt away. I hissed, unable to strike at him for looking upon flesh only my mate was allowed to. My tattoo stood out against the pale skin of my breast. 

“We found signs, spotted quite a few, but they all slipped out from under us. Maybe they ran, maybe they didn’t, but you and your mate were the first we tracked down properly. We had to possess you, you see? We have to do what our fathers, grandfathers, our heritage have been striving to do for years upon years! We must become Lycans!”

With that, he leaned forward and picked me up almost weightlessly in his arms, lying me down on the bed. He sat over my limp body, somehow missing the cold fury in my eyes. 

“Please, Mrs Sharp, don’t make yourself uncomfortable…now that I know you’re expecting, I’ll make sure none of the men, including myself, have their way with you. Your bond to your mate, even though he’s dead, is impressive…shame though,” he said, tracing a hand down my front, between my breasts, onto my bared stomach and stopping at the waistband of my trousers. “You are a beautiful specimen…of both Lycan and woman…”

The growl grew louder. 

“Do you want to know what we _do_ plan to do with you?”

I blinked slowly, I couldn’t say yes or no. I couldn’t even move my jaw. 

“You’re going to Sire us, make us one with you and your kind, rekindle the Lycan clans and repopulate the species…we’re going to save your kind, Mrs Way, we’re going to help you,”

My jaw twitched. “B…By…” I forced air out of my lungs. “U-Usingggg mme?”

Eric looked surprised at my forced words. “Yes…I’m sorry, we never wanted to hurt you, but you proved…uncooperative, and we need you. Night comes in under two hours, and then you’ll have a new family,”

His hand pressed down onto my lower stomach again, harder. “Alongside this little one,”

I closed my eyes. They were going to force me, rape my werewolf gift. Killing them was too easy a punishment to give them. 

“Now…how to waste the time til then? Well…let me think…let me just turn that camera off so my men can’t see…”

My eyes flashed open again. Torture and pain. Definitely in order. 


	23. XXIII: Mikey

As soon as I realised I was coming around, and still barely human, I forced myself to wake up. I forced my eyes open, my muscles to lift me up. 

“Mikey? The moon is rising,” 

My entire body shook with effort, I couldn’t even feel it, but I somehow managed to face him, scrambled onto my knees. Drool dripped off my lower lip, my face so numb I couldn’t tell if my teeth were cutting through my cheeks or anything. 

“I can feel it,” I managed to choke out. My muscles clenched, I could feel the change readying itself upon me. There was an enormous heat inside me, and the hair on my skin bristled, but I swallowed it down, throwing myself at the bars. Charlie backed away, holding a tranquilliser gun steady in his hands.

“Down, boy,”

I shook my head, gasping for air, my arms clinging to the bars to look him in the eye. Veins all over my body stood out with effort to fight the drug and fight the change. I had to stay human, just for a second, just to speak to him. 

“I’ll make a deal, a deal,” I gasped, panting for breath, my eyes rolling back into my skull. I slapped myself harshly and groaned, the nails tipping my fingers were already twisting longer, blacker, bulking into talons. 

“What kind of deal?”

He knew I didn’t have long to talk before I became an almost unstoppable killing machine. 

“Save my wife, save her, let her go, and I’ll fight,” I gasped, a wave of cold passing through me, like nausea in a fever but far more powerful. I shuddered heavily, the bars clanging as my ribs strike them.   

“You don’t have much choice in fighting, Mikey, you’re ours already,”

I shook my head weakly, sweat trickling down my forehead and my neck. I met his eyes as my body began to overpower me, and stabs of pain went through me – pops and cracks as bones juddered out of place, shattered and cracked. My skeleton destroyed itself and I groaned in pain, the change was imminent. Already, I could feel them re-knitting, itching inside my limbs. 

“I’ll fight for the crowds, I’ll be a champion, I won’t try and escape, or fight you, I’ll be yours, I’ll fight for you, your best fighter…” I panted brokenly. 

I couldn’t see straight anymore, it was all blurry and spiked with red, but I could see Charlie thinking it over. He knew I didn’t have long. I slid to the floor as my body began to grow, muscles bulging and expanding, stretching my skin. I looked at him, pleading for an answer. “S-Save her!”

“What happens when we do, and she goes free? What stops you escaping then? Or her rescuing you?”

I shook my head. “I-I’m loyal, to a pack…I’ll be yours, I’ll tell her t-to leave me…p-please…deal?”

The time for words was over, I opened my mouth and yelled in pain, two slits starting from the corners of my mouth and cutting down my face, my neck and down the middle of my body like an earthquake in earth. With that enormous release of pressure, my werewolf body burst out of my old man skin, ripping it away with the talons tipping my padded hands and freeing my enormous body from the confines of humanity once again. 

I’m sorry. I don’t think you’ll ever truly understand the power inside a werewolf’s form. There’s only muscle, only bone and tooth and claw and power. Legs made to run miles and miles as silently and swiftly like deer, made to jump metres in the air and hold our bodies motionless from trees or rafters for hours. Arms to rip apart steel doors, tear cars in half, cause destruction, panic, anarchy. As I rose from the blood stained floor of my cage, my head had to duck to avoid the ceiling. I was just under twice my human height, and so much bigger and stronger, a truly huge beast of hair and muscle and blood. My fur ran thickly with the drying mess of skin, and I let it stay there, reeking of death and pain. War paint. 

“My God…” whispered Charlie, staring at me. “I’ve never seen a Lycan that size…or that colour,”

I lowered my muzzle, looking down at my coat in the dim light. In between the streaks of clotted blood and clumps of fat crusted onto my pelt, I was a light golden brown, stripped with white. I hadn’t noticed the colour in the night Magenta and I had run free together, and obviously I spent last night drugged. I didn’t realise I was so…light. 

Looking up again, I aimed my black eyes at Charlie, letting the jagged red on my eyes fix on him. With one step, I came to the side of the cage and stuck my hand through the bars. My forearm was huge and netted with veins and I couldn’t get it too far through the narrow gap, but my paw…hand…whatever, stuck out for him.  

Even now, as a werewolf, it stills amazes me how different I am. Mentally, everything a lot clearer and easier to understand. To eat, I must kill. To be free, I must kill. To kill, all I have to do is attack. It doesn’t matter what, or who, I kill anymore. I’m a much more selfish being. Physically, I’m so different. Unlike every other moonlit night, the full moon nights are marked by our transformation to werewolf – a wolf man. I walk like a man on two hind legs and two hind paws. I have a tail for balance and claws, a muzzle, wolf ears, hair. But I have a human shape, and my hands are…lost somewhere between paws and hands. 

And right now, that hand of mine was extended for a deal. For my mates life and safety. 

Charlie looked me up and down. I wasn’t a salivating mindless beast, trying to reach out to kill him. I wasn’t howling or bellowing, like the animal I was, wanted to. I wanted to snarl, snap my jaws, fight free, but my human mind still controlled me effortlessly. I was the perfect werewolf. The body of a killer and the mind of a serial killer. 

“You want the life of your mate, safe and sound, released with the promise she won’t seek you out…in return for yours? And for your loyalty?”

I knew he was testing me, trying to see who was in control…me or the beast. He just didn’t get it. I was the beast, the beast was me. I was the wolf, the killer, and I was in perfect control. I nodded my shaggy head, the long light brown mane around my neck moving with me. Streaks of gold and white…I knew I would shimmer in the light almost, a beacon. I thought back to my mate’s dark, glossy coat – how jealous she’d be. 

I opened my jaws, my tongue licking my salivating gums. I could smell the blood in my cell, the corpses wasted meat. My throat clicked, in a semi canine whine. 

“For…her…kill…them…all,”

The words were so hard to force out, more like coughs sculpted into crude words. It sounded more like ‘Fawr…chur…kull…emm…erll,”

Charlie’s face was a picture of shock. “But…but…werewolves can’t talk!”

I shrugged heavily, staggering on my hindpaws. I didn’t want to try again, it wasn’t talking, but forced hacking. And it kinda hurt. 

Charlie exhaled heavily, rubbing his brow. “Jesus…what a specimen! Alright,”

He extended his hand warily. “Your life and loyalty, in exchange for hers. Going back on our deal will equal in death,”

I nodded again, flexing my fingers. Charlie shook my paw. I guessed he expected me to rip his arm off, because he merely shook it for a second then withdrew. He looked me in the eye, and swung the tranquilliser over his shoulder. 

“I’m going to let you out now, and lead you to the ring…I’m trusting you to follow me without traqs, and without playing up. Understand?”

I nodded again, and stepped away from the door of the cage, picking up two hunks of bloody meat and stuffing them down my drooling, hungry throat. Charlie watched me cautiously, as I picked up another fresher piece and used it crudely. I carved out swirls, dots, slashes of blood on my fur – war symbols over the blood still wetting my fur. Armour. 

Then he unlocked the cage and let me out. And I followed calmly. 


	24. XXIV: Magenta

When he’d finished desecrating my flesh, Eric dressed me in the clothes he’d given me before again. He dressed me tenderly, like a doll. The entire…time, with him touching me, I had growled and tried to hiss, force him off, almost kill him. I tried so hard to move, but I couldn’t stop him doing what he wanted to do to me…

God, I felt so dirty, so disgusting. 

I wished Mikey was here, so I could at least watch him kill this human. 

But then…if Mikey was here, he’d have seen, he’d know. God, I never wanted him to know. I felt revolting. 

“Only an hour until the moon rises, we should get you into position,”

I didn’t hear his words, I had closed my eyes and gritted my teeth long ago – closing myself off as best I could. Even sounds couldn’t penetrate me when I sunk down into myself. Down here, deep inside, there’s nothing of girl and human and lover left…there’s just blood and teeth and fur and bone. The thrill of the hunt, the chase, the kill, the spoils. 

I could feel muscles and tendons all over my body flexing and clenching, warming themselves, moving the blood through them. In the back of my canine skull, I could…hear something. A buzz, a static scream almost. I’d only ever heard it once before…when the anger and rage inside me had been so deeply insane I’d broken out of my shell when I shouldn’t have, and tore my father to pieces. 

Back then, I’d been protecting myself, Mikey and my mother’s memory. And now…now this scream was purely for myself and the new child I was stuck with. A baby I didn’t even want and was now a bastard child, it’s mother…fouled. 

I knew I was changing, before the moon could rise, before Eric realised. He was still touching me, his hands still violated me…he couldn’t hear the buzz of my blood pushing the drug out of my muscles, freeing them. But he heard my jaw unlock, and the laughter rolling out of my throat. 

Just like then, the change came so fast. He jumped backwards with the first few bone shattering thuds inside my body, and panicked. My glinting eyes followed him, my body slowly rising on the bed, banishing the restriction on my body. I just wished I’d managed this earlier, when he’d been too unprepared to retreat. 

But he was gone before I was able to move my legs or arms, my skin now lying uselessly on the sheets of the filthy bed. I tried to move, sloppily, slumping to the floor and rubbing at my fur with the pads of my hands, growling anger. 

My eyes searched the room for him even though I knew he’d gone, locking the door. That wouldn’t save him though. My legs shook too hard for me to stand properly but I kept dragging myself upright, trying and trying until I managed to balance on my own two legs. Muscles in my arms and shoulders clenched with anger, claws scratching at the area between my legs, my chest, rubbing flesh he shouldn’t have breathed near. My scars itched angrily, my throat burnt…my womb twitched. 

I hated the soft moan I gave out then, I sounded like a mother. 

Crouching, I wrapped my hairy arms around my lower stomach, feeling the tenderness. I knew, deep in my animal logic, werewolf babies or cubs were grown and born within weeks, I could feel my lower regions aching already. I needed food, and I wanted to sleep. 

I didn’t want this cub, but right now all I cared about was revenge. 

Eyes glinting blood red, I straightened again and fell upon the door with inhuman fury. Roaring at the top of my lungs, I threw myself against the door, straining the bolts. I snarled as pain pounded through my shoulders and ribs, as I hammered into the door over and over again. 

You will not stop me!

With each leap into the door, slamming my body against it with every ounce of strength I had, I could feel it weakening. But then again, so was I. My shoulder complained with any movement and my head stung with the drug comedown. I roared again in frustration and threw myself again – this time meeting a break, crashing through the door into the corridor. 

“Don’t kill her! Don’t kill her!”

Jumping to my feet it took me less than half a second to look up and find myself greeted with soldiers on either side, all aiming more of those guns things at me. It took me the rest of the second to drop down into a crouch, screaming rage and baring claws as I rushed forward. I jumped, over their heads, letting claws and feet crush parts in their way, aiming for the figure yelling at them not to kill me. 

The smell of blood kicked me in the back of the throat, and I felt my blood boil inside me. The screams coming out of me now were so loud they were echoing, slamming through the corridor and making that fear smell of sweat throb. 

My hands were wet with blood, my tongue covered in it. I couldn’t even think, I was just moving on instinct, killing everything and one in sight. Shots of pain slammed through me but I ignored them in my rage. The pain all bundled up inside me, merging with the anger. 

But no matter how many I killed, sliced in half, ripped in pieces, the object of my rage was moving away, running. The slips of numbness were hitting me again, pulling at my legs and dragging me down. 

I snarled again, leaping again and again, past men with guns and smears of black and violent red. But then, one too many shots in my sides, legs, arms…and I crashed to the floor without realising how weak my jump was. I got swallowed into black before I realised my face was slammed into concrete. 

 


	25. XXV: Mikey

Charlie opened another cell door leading into a pitch black holding cell. It reeked of fear and animal sweat. How many werewolves had woken up here to find themselves only minutes away from a painful maimed death? How many were scared, how many anxious? How many had done what I had? Bargained my life and my fight for my wife and mate?

Unlike every other wolf, I stood awake and able bodied, letting Charlie shut the door on me and cut off every scrap of light. That was the worse part. Feeling cut off, the walls hard up against me and the air reeking of confines. I was trapped, an animal in a cage. I quivered all over, the stench of blood all over me causing me to drool and whine for more, and my legs begging me to run and be free. I wanted to feel dirt under my paws, moon on my back, my mate’s scent on my tongue. 

Instead I felt nothing but the blackness pressing back against my eyeballs, and the air billowing as my tail slammed from side to side in agitation. I could hear…I wasn’t sure. A rhythmic, low beat…it barely penetrated the holding cage. 

I could smell something, too. Old blood, layers and layers on it. Generations of battles with generations of werewolves, each one with a slaughtered victim and a victor coated in their blood. And today, I knew I would win. There was something…toxic about me. I was a specimen of extraordinary characteristics. A control over my temper, a shining coat colour…I ran the pads of my hand paws over my body, feeling rippled muscle. 

I was a killer. And I would kill for the crowds, putting on a show the likes of which they’d never seen before, and I would win my Magenta’s freedom. I growled when I thought of her, trapped like me…alone and angry. The growl turned into a howl, throwing my head back and baring my lethal claws to the darkness, howling a raw bellow of fury – I would taste blood this night. 

My ears pricked as I heard metallic shifting and groaning, pulleys and chains of metal grinding to lift as the cage I was in began to lift. I howled again, a war cry for my opponent. I began to release the rage in me…the animal, the mindless killer, the beast. The one Magenta used as a face, I let him go. I wanted to taste blood and crush bones under my jaws. I could feel the cage lifting, my roars joining the pounding beat above me…chants, that’s what it was – people chanting! They were beating their feet against the floor, slamming fists down on wood, chanting…

** BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD **

I roared again, the noise now surrounding me. I could see a slip of light at the top of my cage, a sliver which stabbed my eyes and made me howl again, the smells and noises of the outside ring infecting me. The sliver moved down…creeping down the door until the lift shuddered shut and the doors creaked open, helped by my claws needling between them and ripping them open. 

The lights blinded me as I jumped out into the ring and spun in a low circle, roaring and baring my teeth and claws. I couldn’t see an opponent, but the ring I was held in towered over me. The chants had turned to mindless cheers, deafening in volume. I couldn’t see a single human face, the lights so bright it blinded me. I heard feet stamping, hands clapping, people calling out bets already. I roared and straightened, raising my arms up to the invisible crowds screaming bloodlust into me. 

“Today’s newest catch, and I’ll think you’ll agree the finest specimen we’ve seen in years…give it up for Mikey!”

Screams of approval reached my flattened ears, hearing Charlie’s voice proudly introduce me. I raised my arms further and gave what most men would call a bow. I heard laughter and raised shouts. 

“A newly turned pup, he retains his human manners and reasoning, all fighting for the sake of his mate and here to compete for your affections, ladies and gents,”

I ignored the words now, fixing my eyes on the other side of the featureless flat ring. It was ten metres in every direction and plain concrete, stained red with blood that had dried to brown smudges. The walls ran up far higher than I could hope to jump or climb and opened up into a viewing ring, blocked by burning lamps illuminating the blood bath below. On the far side of the ring, opposite my lift, there was another set of doors. It had yet to open, but I could smell the animal behind it. 

It was male, and older than me, the musk of it’s fur betraying it’s age. It was half asleep too, having been traqed. I ignored the crowds now, my prey was on the other side of those doors and I was going to hunt and kill it.

“Tonight, folks, our new specimen will be fighting Julian, a three time winner and cult favourite of the French Dealers. Welcome to the Trial, ladies and gentlemen, the Auction will only be held if Mikey survives…let’s get ready to fight!”

I roared in agreement, my muscles pounding with blood just laced with adrenaline and hunger. I was coiled like a snake, ready to attack. I didn’t need to hide, my light hide shone out under the blood paint. The cheers reached me again, women’s and men’s voices mingling as they faded out over the thoughts in my head. 

For some reason, Magenta’s voice echoed in my ear. My eyes swam back to when she’d returned to me, we were lying in her van in each other’s arms. She was staring at me like she’d never seen me before. 

“One day, you’ll understand me when I say…a hunter knows what it’s hunting. Whether it’s blood, fortune or love…a hunter always knows,”

Those words made sense now, even though then I had laughed at the obviousness of her statement. But she was right. I knew. 

I knew I would win. 

The door cracked open and fell to rest, baring an open black gap. My eyes pierced the gloom, unable to see the wolf on the other side. I heard him before I saw him, the growl spilling out of the darkness. And then he pounced, flying out of the darkness and aiming his front claws directly at my eyes. I moved like liquid, bending my spine back and watching him sail pointlessly over me, crashing into the floor and rolling. The drugs were still affecting him. I felt the voices screaming in the back of my skull to pounce on him, tear into his flesh but I didn’t move, merely straightened and kept my back to him, ears trained. 

I would play with him until the killing blow. 

His heated snarls filled the air as he jumped to his feet and ran forward, swiping at me. I ducked forward easily, his claws barely touching the silver tips of my mane, and my arm moving to grab his wrist and spin it around, cracking his shoulder as I sidestepped, dragging him with me. 

The crowd were screaming so loud they missed the crack, and the whine Julian released, stumbling aside briefly, shaking his arm back into place and slotting it back in. He turned his drooling, frenzied muzzle towards me – determined to hurt me this time. 

He rushed forward and my fist shot out of nowhere, latching around his throat and crushing his windpipe under my nails, skin popping around my fingertips and warm blood seeping down my arms. He squealed in pain, claws scrabbling at my wrist, arm, shoulder – weakly clawing gashes into me. It didn’t hurt, it aided the rush. 

I heard the screams of the crowd turn to cheers. 

** BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD **

I licked my salivating lips and spun, lifting the smaller black werewolf off his feet and tossing him against the wall. He slammed into it and crumpled, coughing and whining. I bent my legs and pounced, leaping onto his back and crushing him, one foot on his neck and the other buried in his back harshly. The cracks of his bones excited me, and I reached down and grabbed his wrists, yanking his arms back and shattering the joints of both shoulders. 

I ignored the crowds, their cries fading out in the pounding of blood in my ears and the howling of the beast I was overtaking me. I spent minutes beating Julian to a barely breathing pulp, throwing him against the walls and painting them a new shade of red. I sunk my fists into his stomach and eyes, stabbing until he saw nothing but blood and his teeth were scattered across the concrete floor. The power engulfed me, made me feel stronger and more powerful than ever. 

I finally ended it, ripping his lower jaw off in one taloned swoop and hurling it up into the ring of spectators, earning screams of fear instead of lust. The corpse that was once a werewolf slumped to the floor, a bloodied hunk of meat now. I moved to stand on his back, drooling with hunger and bent to fix his neck bone into my teeth. His blood was static, his heart stopped…but so warm, so tangy and rich on my tongue! My claws found his spinal column, points needling under thick fur until I held his spine in my paws and teeth. 

I ripped it free easily and tossed it aside, my entire front now drenched in blood. 

I tossed back my golden mane and held my arms high, basking in the chants of **BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!**


	26. XXVI

I left the arena the same way I entered it, by entering the lift on my side. My bloodlust was whetted, my gullet sated with the hunks of free meat I’d torn off the loser. My belly bulged with meat and my tongue hung out, panting for cool air. I slumped inside the lift, feeling drained. The kill had been a rush, and easy, but the effort came from the restraint. It hurt not to pounce like an animal, but to stand and strategize like a man. 

At the bottom, the doors pinged open and I found a cage door over the entrance. A soft growl began to tingle in my throat when I saw Charlie through the cage. 

“Calm down, Mikey, it’s just in case you were feeling a bit…homicidal after that kill,”

I didn’t speak anything, or do anything apart from move away from the edge of the cage and stand still. I wasn’t a threat to him whilst he was promising to save my Magenta. The beast I was hated it, but I was still a man as well. I had a brain as well as teeth. 

“Ok, boys, open the cage, he’s fine,”

I waited until the clang of metal stopped before stepping out. I turned my enormous muzzle from side to side, finding myself surrounded by men holding guns. All aimed at me. Charlie was the only one without a gun, but far enough away from that not to be a problem in case I did go red. 

“Ok, I think he’s fine. You can go, lads, I’ll take him to his pen,”

I fixed a cold glare on him. 

“Maybe ‘pen’ isn’t the best word for it. Cell, or…area,”

I snorted briefly as the mercenaries filed past me warily, eyeing the clumps of blood drying on my gums, the war paint drying to my fur. When they were far enough away, I looked back to Charlie and allowed him to lead me. I fell into step behind him, silencing thoughts of reaching forward and cracking his skulls in-between my claws. I could have so easily stepped forward and grabbed him in both paws, and torn him in two. I could have broken his neck or sliced him open…

But none of that would help Magenta. 

She was everything. 

“I must say…I’ve been watching the fights for years and years,” said the human in front of me, taking my attention away from thoughts of my mate. “And that was the most entertaining and blood thirsty match I’ve ever seen,”

If my mouth could have smirked, I would have. All I could think was the slaughter job Magenta did on her evil father all those years ago. If you want blood thirsty, pitch a daughter against the father who murdered her mother and left her for dead. 

“The way you carried it on, beating him…really making the punters crazy! Most fights last a minute or two, tops, but with you, fifteen minutes or so of pure carnage…amazing,”

I gave a shudder behind Charlie, unseen. I don’t know why, the familiar rage of the beast begging for the kill again, for the fresh taste of blood. I knew my eyes would be dilating scarlet red to match the war paint drenching me. 

“A team are being assembled as we speak, to locate and extract your mate from her captors,”

My attention was drawn again. 

“Upon her release, she’ll be brought here as proof to you that’s she’s safe and you are to explain the terms of the contract to her. Then, once you’re both done with each other, she’ll be taken home. She’s not to try and locate the Hunting Ring, or come in contact with you again. She’s not to speak of the existence of the Hunting Ring. She’s not to attempt a rescue. In return, she’ll be left untagged and unbagged to live freely and you’ll continue to make us huge sums of money by fighting as dirty as you did in there,”

He’d been leading me down corridor after corridor, down a flight of stairs and through series of doors I had to squeeze my way through. I was enormous now, bulging with adrenaline laced muscles. Every footstep thudded heavily behind Charlie. 

He led me straight to a cell door upon entering a large, open underground room. 

“You will fight for us, and not resist in any way. You will not try and escape or she’ll be hunted down and killed within hours. You will not try and resist fighting or she’ll be brought here to fight as well. You will be the Hunter’s prize werewolf,”

I swallowed. For Magenta’s safety, I was sacrificing everything. My life, my mate, my friends…everything I ever cared for. I was even selling my own skin. 

“Under these circumstances, this room has been made available. It’s for our top fighter. This bunker we’re in now is a training unit, also made available to you. During the days of the month, and new moon, your room opens to a secondary luxury unit with some more…creature comforts. At night and during full moon, the training unit can be used for whatever,” shrugged Charlie. 

“You’re an extraordinary fighter, and I intend for you to stay that way for a long time. Are we clear?”

He looked at me evenly, hand on the door handle to my ‘room’. I looked around the training unit silently. I could only hear my deep breathing. There were weights and exercise equipment to the side, and punch bags. I didn’t expect to be treated almost like a man, when all I thought I was to them was a mindless animal. 

I guess top of the range fighters paid better than insane driven monsters.

I growled my agreement, thinking of my beautiful Magenta. I wished there was a way I would still be able to see her…even men in prison get conjugal visits. I nodded to Charlie, who nodded and opened the door to let me through into what was to be my new home. 

“Welcome to the Hunters, laddie,”

“Wake up, Mrs Way,”

I groaned heavily, my head killing me. My nose was bust, swollen and reeked of blood. My lip was cut and there was a nasty graze on my forehead. I knew this because I could feel it all, my fingers sleepily checking my face and body as I lay on my prison floor. 

I remembered changing in that same pure anger state as the night I killed my father. I remembered bursting through a solid door…which explained the dislocated shoulder. I remembered trying to hardest to reach that cockroach Eric before the million of darts in my body sent me to sleep again. I remembered being shot...which explained the bullet holes in my side someone had stitched up and bandaged. I remembered crashing before killing the only target I really wanted. 

I didn’t know how many other’s blood was mixed in with my blood. I didn’t care. 

I wondered…briefly, if the cub was ok. 

“Oh, Mrs Way,”

That voice again. Eric. I forced my eyes open, wincing at the light shining from the roof of my prison. I groaned heavily, rolling over so the light didn’t reach me anymore. I felt the tips of my dreadlocks brush my skin and face. Only…

I gasped, groaning in anger. My hands ran through my hair. “No!” I yelped, my throat straining and weak. I was still in so much pain I couldn’t sit up, wincing as the bullet holes in my side stabbed pain. 

They’d cut my hair. 

“Oh, yes, sorry about that, it was far too bloody to clean and did you really need all that hair anyway?”

I hissed, forcing myself to sit upright and ignoring the pain screaming through me. “That was mine, you arseholes! I’ll kill you for this!!” I screeched. I ran my fingers through it. It came down to just past my ears now, and choppy. Some bits were longer than others, reaching my shoulders but…I felt even worse than raped. 

I’m not a material girl. Possessions and clothes and trinkets come and go. People die or leave. But me, my body, has never left me. I don’t care about my appearance usually, I dress to be comfortable and to look good for Mikey, everything else means shit all to me. But my hair…it was my pride, my soul. I had rings in it from friends long gone, beads and crosses and safety pins…

I cried then, mourning my hair. I didn’t cry politely either. I howled. 

“We’re sorry, Mrs Way, but it’ll grow back…it’s already longer than it was when we cut,”

I looked up, tears covering my face in stinging salt. 

“How long was I out?” I cried at the walls, blurry. 

“Three days. You’re healing well though, and the baby’s just fine!”

I didn’t know what to think about that. 

“Unfortunately this does mean we have to wait until next full moon to sire any of your children, but don’t worry, it’ll pass quickly,”

He spoke about it as if I _wanted_ to do it, like some big treat. I knew exactly what to think about that. 

“Fuck you,” I whispered to the smug voice, hiding my face and cradling my hair. “Just fuck you,”

I was gonna kill him. Mikey would come for me and kill his way in here, and when I was free, I would track that arsehole down and torture him until he begged to die. 


	27. XXVII: Mikey

The next morning I woke up to find someone had cleared my skin away. I felt shakey and tense from the night before. The blood of the kill, the scent of rage, still clung to me even after shedding my fur and a layer of festering skin. I was collapsed on the bunk in the corner, flat on my back and wincing. My joints and muscles ached with the change back. It had only been a handful of hours ago, and I was still exhausted. 

The reason I’d woken up?

_She moaned my name, and I tripped with clumsiness, dropping her. Figures surrounded us and I blinked to clear the fog in my eyes, my mouth opening to yell, scream, anything. Magenta roared again, hidden from me by black clad strangers that reeked of human and cigarette smoke. I fought against hands holding me, slashing up arms, legs, faces, whatever I could reach._

_“MAGENTA!” I roared, the inhuman cry tearing from my lungs like a blast from a bomb, and I threw myself through the sheath of people. They parted like a cloud, and I couldn’t see her, they’d taken her, they’d vanished with her and now they surrounded me. I could only see their eyes – bright, awed, determined eyes. I hissed, exhaustion and the fluid’s influence threatening to drop me and leave me powerless._

_With one final leap of energy, I tossed myself over the line of scrubs next to me and rolled._

My body had jerked violently as it thought a hill of dirt and rocks and scrubs would be slamming into it. My skin was lightly covered in a salty layer of sweat, my breathing fast and painful. I winced instantly, remembering where I was and what I’d promised to Charlie. 

I conjured Magenta’s face to view, closing my eyes. I could see her angry, red jagged eyes narrowing at me. I knew she was angry I’d promised my life away, but eventually she’d understand I did it to save her. I knew where she was…with those fucking Helpers, and I knew she’d be going out of her mind. There was something sexy about imaging her spitting mad. I loved it when she was angry (but, duh, not at me). She just leaks her angry, canine power and becomes a huge pheromone neon sex sign to me, I loved it when she got angry before sex to, and went rough on me. 

I could imagine her yelling at me, her voice filling my ears. I was ashamed to say I got incredibly turned on, feeling my member stirring. I sighed heavily, my digits tickling my nude stomach, moving lightly towards my groin. 

In such a sick situation as I was in, killing to stay alive and keep her safe, this didn’t seem so wrong. I thought of her as I touched myself, remembering the last time we were together – new wolves together, rolling in the dirt, fighting for control, cleaning each other, cutting holes, lapping up the blood. I remembered the pulsing feel of our hearts beating against ribcages pushed together. I remembered the taste of her on my tongue. The purr of shaking bones inside me. 

I opened my eyes again and sighed deeply as I finished, my muscles tensing briefly. The release didn’t alter how I felt too much, but I somehow couldn’t keep the smile off my face. My beautiful Magenta…I was glad just the thoughts of her were enough at the moment. I ached to be close to her, to throw her nubile body against the wall and dig my nails into her flesh with a kiss to match, but for now, my imagination suited fine. 

I found sleep impossible to find again, my body mixed with pleasure and pain. I groaned as I rolled out of the bunk, listening to joints click and snap back into place. My mind was racing now, taking in my surroundings and thinking it through like a human. God, this was just a glorified prison. 

I dressed quickly, finding clean, soft training clothes in the wardrobe on the side. Track pants, jeans, combats, t shirts, tanks. Hoodies and army boots. I looked military, dressed in olive green and soft grey, black boots hiding black twisted toenails. I left my room, pacing agitatedly. Was this how I was meant to spend my days now? Alone, cooped up, without colour or music or my friends? Outside, the training room seemed even bigger now I was a regular human size. I looked at the equipment. Weights, mountains of them. A running machine. Rowing machines and punch bags and everything I’d ever need to get stronger and bigger. 

But happy?

I guess happiness wasn’t something they could provide me. 

I spent the first day training. Working up a sweat on the machines, working muscles and bones until my body was humming with heat and I was exhausted. 

My heart raced from all the exercise I had put myself through. My thoughts numbed as I worked, the blood pumping too loud to let me dwell too long. I was beating the shit out of the punch bag when I heard the door at the end of the training compound clang open. I wiped my eyes free of sweat, pushing my hair back and found Charlie walking calmly towards me. 

“Good morning,” he greeted me, raising a hand. “Or should I say, good afternoon? You hungry?”

I was, my stomach growled with the idea of food. “Yeah,” I replied, moving away from the punch bag. Charlie cast a look at my glowing skin, the sweat collecting on me. 

“Maybe a shower first though, eh?”

He directed me to the shower block on the other side of the training room, and he waited outside for me. The water was cold, and I washed quickly, feeling the heat drain out of me. I dressed again, leaving my skin and hair to dry on it’s own time. Charlie smiled when I re-emerged. 

“So how do we feel this morning?”

I shrugged. “Sore, bit edgey…ok, though I guess. Any news on my girl?”

Charlie and I fell into step, heading for the end of the training room. 

“A team was sent early this morning to your campsite, the van’s being returned to your home, and a tracker crew are tracing her. They should be able to locate her in a matter of hours, depending of mode of transport,”

I nodded, glad. “So maybe I’ll get to see her tonight?”

Charlie shrugged as he unlocked the door with his pass and the huge metal structure unlocked and clanged open. “Tonight, tomorrow – soon. Miss her?”

I nodded, following him out into the corridor. “More than you’d think,”

He chuckled. “I have a pretty good idea, newly wed wolves can get a bit insane without each other. Once again, you surprise me,”

“I’m surprising myself. If I were Mags right now, I’d be going crazy…I guess I’m in better control than her,” I mused, mainly to myself. He was leading me down faceless, boring corridors, towards the smell of a canteen mess hall. 

“Bittens are usually better at using their human logic as well as wolf logic,” I frowned at his use of the term ‘wolf logic’, that’s what Mags called it. “Pure Bloods are usually more…feral. Can’t wait to meet this firecracker of yours,”

I laughed. “I can’t wait to see her either. How long can I have her?”

Charlie shrugged. “If she plays well, couple of days maybe…”

“Will I ever get to see her again, after you take her home?”

He turned as we reached a door, hand resting on the doorknob. He opened straight into my eyes. “We’ll have to think about that,”  
I nodded, it was all I could expect at that moment. 

He opened the door and led me into the mess hall. Eyes settled on me from all over. Soldiers with their guns slung over chairs watched me warily. The canteen staff narrowed their eyes at me, following Charlie. And then, there were sets of tables set away from the soldiers and guards. A rag tag selection of scumbags and hard men sat there. Some were chained to the chairs, others left free. They all ate without looking up properly, hunkered over their food and eyes flashing around secretly. Black eyes, with red jagged lines. Werewolves. 

Charlie led me past them, and I could feel their gaze on me, aggression mingled with interest. I'd never believed I'd see so many in a single room before.

“Everyone eats roughly the same time, only the worst behaving wolves eat in their rooms. Most are brought here. We know leaving them alone for months on end leads to them going a bit crazy so everyone attempts to socialize a little. I’ll show you the rec room for the players later,”

I didn’t take in much, glancing at each werewolf face in turn. They all looked familiar somehow. Scarred and muscular, tanned skin and wild hair. Black nails, sharp teeth, power with every single movement. Somehow, I could tell the Pure Bloods from the Bittens. The Pure Bloods acted more savage, tearing at their food, watching suspiciously, teeth bared. The Bittens seemed more resigned. 

“The numbers of the Meat wolves, the fodder, changes constantly. The stupid, inexperienced or slow ones die fast in the fights, and new arrivals come quite often, from all over the globe,”

Charlie’s words weren’t quite getting there, I was too busy still taking in the numbers of wolves. Until a few days ago, Magenta and her deceased family were the only wolves I knew. 

“The only ones that really stick around, winning fights, are the players. You can tell them apart easily,”

Charlie gestured towards a table of wolves actually speaking to each other. They were laughing and slapping each other’s shoulders, the noise coming mainly from them, over the hubbub of the soldiers. 

“We never pair them up because we want to keep them, they’re like you – fighters, entertainers. Keepers. Make friends with them, and you’ll have someone to talk to,”

Charlie left me at the buffet, and I quickly helped myself to chicken and potatoes, stealing chunks out of the massive piles of delicious looking food. I inclined my head to the staff watching me carefully, smiling. 

“Thank you very much,”

The man I aimed it to looked shocked one of the ‘beasts’ thanked him, but I turned away. Charlie was at the players table, hands on the two closest shoulders, laughing and talking to them. He pointed to me and I found five pairs of eyes settle on me, grins appearing. Then they waved me over as Charlie left.   

 


	28. XXVIII: Mikey

Sitting with these five werewolves, it only reminded me how much I missed my Magenta. 

The flashing eyes I was so used to, and the smell as well. But it was also how they spoke, how they reacted to each other and laughed and even blinked. Animals, in human form. Somehow, I could tell they were all Pure Bloods. 

They were friendly, although that wasn’t the best word to describe it. They were welcoming, and rough – like a mother wolf checking out a pup for scratches or dirt. They were curious also. 

“You’re a Bitten? And Charlie reckons you’re a new player?” asked one, a big black man with tattoos visible against his chocolate skin and even longer dreadlocks than Magenta. He was older than the rest, past 40 and almost majestic in his motions. His eyes never moved off me. 

“Yeah…because I killed for the crowds,” I said, not really understanding the idea. The one next to me, a hard muscled heavily tattooed figure with a lean form and a shaved head grinned manically, silvered teeth flashing. 

“Then you’ve got it down. That’s the beauty of it,” he told me in a strong cockney English accent as he shovelled food into his mouth. “All these other cunty little wolf bitches fight ‘cause they’re gonna get killed if they don’t, or the beast side of ‘em’s telling ‘em to carve that shit up,” he said, gesturing with his fork. The other four laughed softly as he spoke, nodding in agreement. “Whereas us, now us, matey – we’re not just killers or hunters, mind,” he said, grinning. His eyes practically sparkled. “We’re not Meat or anything, we’re the entertainers. We’re the ones who even when we’re all ‘airy and wolfed out, still take the time to put on a good show and slice the shit outta these pieces of shit,”

“You’re going to have to excuse Kyle,” said the large black wolf, smiling warmly in my direction. “He’s a speed freak, and Charlie lets him have it as long as he plays nice with others,”

Kyle, the skinhead, grinned at me again and winked. “I always play nice,”

The wolf next to him smacked on the back of the head, shaking Kyle’s skull until the wolf laughed and struck back, freeing himself. “Fuck off, dip shit!”

The wolf who’d shaken him smiled at me and offered a hand missing a ring finger. 

“Sorry bout Kyle, nice to meet you. I’m Duke, the black’s Jared, and those two are Bubble and Squeak,”

I turned and looked at the last two wolves, raising my eyebrows. “Seriously?”

They were young, younger than me and mean looking. Dirty blonde hair on both, it was easy to see they were brothers. The first one, Bubble I think, wore his hair long and ragged around his shoulders, whilst Squeak’s was shorter and in a ponytail. The left side of Squeak’s face was ravaged with insane scars, blinding his left eye and tweaking the left side of his mouth down in a permanent sneer, the twisted scar tissue continuing onto his neck and down his bare arm and chest, the vest he was wearing baring most. Compared, his brother had a fresh bandage coating his upper arm, stained lightly with red. Both looked vicious and violent, like they lived for fighting. 

“Seriously,” replied Squeak in an Australian accent. “Our parents were drug addicts,”

“And a little crazy,” replied Bubble, in an equally strong accent.

I smirked. “Fair enough. Nice to meet you all…I hope to never ever fight you, you all look…unbeatable,”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” grinned Kyle, flicking a potato at Bubble and getting a fork thrown back at him. Jared caught my attention again, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. 

“To be honest, I don’t any of us would want to fight you either – we all saw your Trial on the re run this morning,”

I winced. “I can’t even remember what I did,”

Duke laughed, glancing at Jared and Squeak. “You’re serious?” he asked, as food between Kyle on my one side and Bubble on my other flew back and forth. 

I shrugged. “I remember some of it, but most of it just kinda fuzzy,”

“Well, whatever, it was amazing. I mean, we’re all expert killers, and entertainers, but you were brutal last night…you did stuff none of us have the patience to,” he told me, smirking like he was proud or jealous. Jared nudged him. 

“Must be the human factor, Bittens keep that in mind apparently,”

“Yeah, but usually it’s a bad thing,” pointed out Squeak, frowning. I listened carefully, ignoring Bubble and Kyle’s foodfight as best I could. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning forward as far as allowed without being coated in food. Squeak turned to me. 

“We’re all Pure Bloods, so when we were growing up it was kill or be killed, hunter and prey – that kind of thing. Killing’s been in our nature forever and we don’t have a problem with it. When we’re wolfed out, we’re just that – animals. We’ve all managed to stay sane enough inside to put on shows, but most Bittens don’t have that kinda thought process. For them, this is barbaric and the justice system punishes murder and all that bollocks. There’s a very fine line in using the human factor to put on a sadistic show and getting too bogged down in the guilt and fear,” he told me, his accent moving roundly around the words. He was surprisingly eloquent and fair voiced for such a mean looking bastard. 

“In essence, we’re surprised you’re such a ruthless killer seeing as you’re a Bitten,” filled in Duke, smirking. I smiled back, shrugging. 

“Guess my wife rubbed off on me,”

“She the one who Sired you? A Pure Blood?” asked Jared, curious. I nodded, smiling soppily. 

“Aw, mates! Lookit that grin, someone’s in love,” grinned Kyle, pinching my cheek and making me wince as nails pinched into flesh. 

“Leave him alone, Kyle. How long you been Sired?” asked Squeak. 

“Three nights,”

“Jesus! You should still be curled up shaking and freaking out like the rest of the new pups!” said Duke, whistling through his teeth. “There’s a killer inside you and no doubt!”

“Your wife, she’s a tough cookie?” asked Jared, eyes still fixed on me. I nodded, smiling. 

“The toughest…she beat me into shape and no question,” I smirked, playing with my food. 

“Looking at that wedding band, I guess you ain’t been married long,”

“Barely a week,” I sighed, my smile dropping. 

“Miss her?”

“You have no idea,”

There was a short silence then. “So, the first full moon night was when she Sired you, I figure. So you had that night together…tell us about it,” grinned Squeak, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“And all the gory details please,” winked Kyle. I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Oh, come on, none of us have had a woman since they brought that little bitch in almost a year ago, and she got passed around til fight night,”  
”Charming,” I grimaced. “Mags would slit throats before letting that happen…”

“Mags?”

“Magenta, my girl…”

“Come on, tell us – none of us have had any action, if you discount Duke and his guard friend, and we don’t since that ain’t pussy,”

“Fuck off!” hissed Duke, latching his claws around Bubble’s neck, just as words left it. Squeak reached over and grabbed Duke’s throat in a similar grip and Jared whistled loudly, grabbing both their extended arms and throwing them off each other. He looked at me over the table. 

“Come on, let’s hear it. Before blood gets split,”

I shrugged and proceeded to tell them all the gory details they wanted.  


	29. XXIX

“Ok, Mikey, you’ll love this – this is the player’s rec room,” filled in Jared, as he opened the door. I stood and looked around as Kyle pushed past me, with Squeak in tow. Bubble had gone off to get his fight wound checked to, and I felt Duke at my elbow. 

“What do you think?”

“Um…” I mumbled, still looking. It was another bare kind of bunker, the concrete grey walls unmistakable. There was a ring of mismatched, slumping couches with sagging backs and rumpled cushions. There was a coffee table missing a leg and propped up with a pile of bricks instead, and rimmed with coffee mugs, broken beer bottles, Doritos packets and magazines – mostly soft porn.

There was a huge TV, a pool table with patched green bits, a dartboard almost destroyed by holes from needles and…a potted plant in the corner. My eye was caught by a wall of photographs, similar to the wall in the room of the Hairy Helpers. 

“It’s…bleak,” I said, honestly. Jared laughed and walked in, hopping over the back of the couch and watching the show Kyle and Squeak were absorbed in. 

“Thank God, you’re the first one to be honest,” said Duke next to me. “It’s shit, isn’t it? But it’s better than what the rest of the Meat get…at least we’ve got TV and somewhere else to be, y’know?”

I nodded, sighing, and going over to the couch furthest from the loud TV. Duke went with me and we sat down together. 

“So, that mate of yours sounds feisty…” I grinned and nodded. 

“I didn’t tell you guys the best of it,” I grinned, licking my lips. “And hopefully I can get my hands on her again soon…”

“If not, there’s always alternatives,”

I looked at him, frowning, confused. “Alternatives?”

“Duke, stop hitting on the new guy! He’s not gay. Plus, shouldn’t you be playing nice by that little guard of yours?” yelled Kyle, laughing. I blushed, seeing Duke’s expression. 

“Fuck off, Kyle!” he growled, shaking his head. “I know he’s going out to clubs every other night and I hate that, I want a little leverage,” he hmphed. 

“Fair enough, but can’t help you, sorry Duke,” I laughed, letting it off. He shrugged and sighed. 

“Pity, you’re a pretty one,”

“Mikey, wanna play some pool?” offered Jared, standing up. I nodded and smiled at Duke before getting up and crossing over to the pool table with the huge black werewolf. 

“Sorry about him,” he said quietly, under the blare of the TV. I glanced back at Duke, who’s moved to the vacated couch to watch with the rest of the guys. “He’s hit on all of the new guys at one point or another…”

“He doesn’t strike me as the jealous gay type,” I shrugged, lining up the balls in the triangle. 

“Oh, that guard of his is a bitch of a slice – drives Duke mental…so mental when the guy’s in wolf mode he goes a whole new brand of insane…so, when he can, he’s always trying the new guy. I reckon Kyle’s slept with him but of course, the speed freak won’t tell,”

I laughed, taking the triangle away and watching Jared line up the shot. 

“So what’s Kyle’s story? Or any of them?”

Jared took his time thinking about it as he broke the triangle and sent balls spinning around the table. He tossed the cue to me before starting.  

“Well…Kyle’s from some shitty part of London, hence the accent…he’s a Pure Blood, from one of the oldest English clans – or so he tells us. He was caught whilst shop lifting, he got nicked by the police, or who looked like the police. One minute, he’s running, next minute he’s inside a police van getting the shit beaten out of him and being sped towards a private military plane,”

“The brothers?”

“Ha! That was a stake out that went incredibly wrong. The Australian clan of wolves, bizarre bunch they were, decided to come open a little bit and try and get ahold of some of these bastards, figure out exactly why wolves were being nicked all over the world and brought here. Bubble and Squeak volunteered to let themselves be chased and stalked, leading the team sent to capture them into an ambush. Only problem, there were two teams sent because Australian’s known for its werewolf population and violence,”

“It is?”

“Well, in the clans, it is,”

“Clans?”

“I’ll explain later, anyway – the two brothers got separated by the onflux of numbers, and it ended in both of them being hitched down in different planes. Squeak, reckoning his brother was dead, went psycho and managed to destroy the bonds on him and crashed the plane,”

“Is that the reason for the scars?”

“Yep,”

“So then what happened?”

“The other plane pulled Squeak outta the rubble and brought them here, and it took Squeak at least a month to heal,”

“Duke?”

“Same as you, really – he was interrupted whilst turning the ‘love of his life’ apparently, but his mate was Meat and got slaughtered on Trial,”

“Fuck!” I swore, partially because I missed potting a hole and partially because I couldn’t imagine how painful that would be. 

Jared patted my shoulder. “That was eight years ago, he’s pretty much over it now,”

I nodded, but the idea still hurt. I couldn’t imagine getting over it if Magenta was killed in a fight. 

“What about you?”

“My sister got captured by the Hunters when she was only 15, she’d snuck out at full moon to meet a male…I followed to bring her back, and I saw her captured. I did what you’re planning on doing,”

I waited, Jared’s eyes downcast and depressed, focussing on the ball. “I swapped my servitude for her freedom,”

“How long ago was that?”

“Nine years, give or take a month or two…”

“She’s ok then?”

“She…she got seen a year later, and shot by a farmer,” he sighed, his shot freezing up as the hollow words came out. I swore quietly. 

“Silver bullets?”

“No, he thought she was a wolf…filled her with shotgun rounds…even a wolf can’t survive that kind of punishment,”

“Shit, did she…”

“Yeah, she did. And now I’m stuck,”

“Do…do you wish you hadn’t switched?” I asked gently. He shook his head. 

“No way, I loved that brat. I mean…I wish she hadn’t gone sneaking around farms, killing lambs, and mating in the middle of fields, but I’d rather she had that extra year than be ripped apart in here for entertainment,”

I nodded slowly, not knowing what to say that would be of any comfort. 

“It’s ok, Mikey, I’m fine. Humans and emotions are Bitten things, I’m a Pure Blood, we all are – tragedy and mayhem are part of our lives, we roll with the punches,”

I shrugged. “Fair enough. So…the clans?”

“I don’t suppose you ever heard about clans, being a Bitten? And from America,”

I shook my head, potting a ball. 

“Well, the clans were the family lines of werewolves, there used to be loads, but they started interbreeding, dying out…disappearing bit by bit. There were three main ones in America, others in the European countries, Australia, England, Africa – all over the world. There were even clans at the poles, white wolves. Wolves are usually solitary, but these were family packs, the younger wolves would be raised and released, only to rejoin the family pack when they had mates, cubs or were growing old. Kyle was a princeling of his line, and Bubble and Squeak were soldiers. Duke was an unknown, the clans scattered and unrelated now. I was part of one of the smaller American clans,”

“Wow…I didn’t know there were so many wolves in the world,”

“There are less these days, thanks to hunting, knowledge – and places like this,” sighed Jared, missing a pot. 

“Mag’s family came from Canada – is there a clan up there?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah, one of the most violent clans too. Hard bitten wolves, those guys are. And they’re rumoured to be able to do some stuff we can’t, to believe in shit we don’t,”

“The sun and moon charms?”

“Yeah…we’ve all got the tattoos though,” smiled Jared, touching the mark on his chest. 

“She…”

He looked up at me. “She did this thing once…she changed, on a new moon,”

Jared’s hand shook and dropped the cue. He swore deeply and shook his head. 

“Jesus…I heard the Canadian clan were mystical or some shit like that, but I never believed….a new moon? Into a wolf?”

I nodded. 

“Then, I _definitely_ can’t wait to meet her,”


	30. XXX

We were half way through watching Seven, with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman – one of my favourite cult movies – when the intercom crackled into life. 

“Mikey in there?” came over a familiar Scottish voice. 

“Yeah,” I called, a little shocked by the present of an intercom and how loud it was. The other wolves completely ignored it. 

“Good, meet me at your bunker, we’ve located your wife,”

I jumped up off the couch and over the back, leaving the rec room without another word. As I left, I heard Kyle whistle and say something about pussywhipped puppies. I didn’t care, this was worth rushing for. I didn’t know my way back easily, but I followed my nose as best I could, running into a dead end or two until I found the doorway to my bunker, with Charlie standing calmly next to it. 

“Sir,” I said, inclining my head as I went over to him, boots thudding on the floor. He smiled.

“You’re getting the idea now, lad. Come on,” he said, walking away from my bunker. 

“Where is she?” I asked, breathless as I stepped into time with him. 

“She’s being held in a domicile on the outskirts of the city, a house belonging to a private group,”

“Hairy Helpers…” I growled, attempting to make my voice menacing as I said the incredibly stupid words. Charlie chuckled. 

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that,”

I glanced at him as we walked, frowning slightly. “Simple as…?”

“The house belongs to a private group, yes, but not the Hairy Helpers. I’ll explain more inside,” 

I didn’t have time to ask ‘inside?’ before the wall in front of me beeped and slid open seamlessly. 

“Fuck!” I swore, jumping almost out of my skin. Charlie laughed at me again, walking inside the elevator and pulling me in as well. 

“Come on, lad, we want to organise the attack as soon as possible,”

We rode the elevator in silence, me biting my nails anxiously, the tough black talons weaker than my teeth it seemed. Charlie stared straight forward, lost in his own calculating thoughts it seemed. There were so many things I wanted to ask, to know. 

Was she alive, and well? Why had they stolen her? When would I get to see her?

The elevator suddenly stopped, the doors sliding open again. Charlie nudged me out into a large bunker, black and dimly lit. The walls were lined with enormous screens and benches of computers, people in white coats working feverishly. We were widely ignored. 

“What-“

“This is the brains of the whole complex,” Charlie told me. “From here, we control the cell security, the feed of the fights to all the available channels, surveillance in and all around the base – and recon to countries all over the globe, out the agents stalking new Meat,”

I stared around at wonder, watching a million and one screens – all with different pictures flickering on them. I could see the rec room with Kyle and Duke arm wrestling. I could see a werewolf  being subdued in his cell. I could see a woman with long, ragged hair being chased by the camera man, snarling as she was pinned. I winced – this was sick inside it’s impressiveness. 

“Over here, Mikey,”

Charlie led me away from the centre of the room to a series of screens, with two men watching. One was a white coat, glasses perched on the edge of his nose and pale skin, zooming in on the image of a house on the main screen, mapping the defences. The other one was dressed in military garb, like Charlie. He glanced at me and then at Charlie. 

“He’s not wearing cuffs,”

“He’s not a threat, relax,”

The man didn’t look convinced. 

“Mikey, this is my senior, Commander Riddle. Commander Riddle, this is Mikey. You’ve read my report, you know what to expect,”

The Commander nodded slowly and turned towards me. “You know the price of going back of your deal?”

I nodded. “You’ll kill me or Mags,” I said, knowing it was very likely. I didn’t let my voice shake. He nodded. 

“After she’s released home, she’ll be tagged 24 hours a day – if you play up or break the deal, she’ll be killed immediately,”

I didn’t let the fear creep on to my face. “I won’t break the deal,”

The Commander and I stared at each other for nearly a full minute, him attempting to stare me down. Then he looked to Charlie, nodded, and left. 

Charlie whistled, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “Don’t half make me panic, boyo. Julian, show Mikey the heat signal,”

The man sitting at the desk flipped over the image to a heat picture. The house seemed to have multiplied floors. 

“This house has an extensive underground basement section. From what we gather, this is your bride,”

Julian tapped the lower corner of the image, to a glowing stationary dot. I reached out and touched it gently, hoping to God she was ok…

“The house is surrounded by wire fences all wired with motion sensors and triggers. There are lock down window guards, and see all these dots?” he asked, motioning to a bright circle surrounding the exterior. “These are guards, toting some ugly machinery, even for this lot,”

“Jesus…I didn’t know they were this advanced,” I muttered. 

“That’s because you thought you were dealing with the Hairy Helpers, but this isn’t them,”

“It isn’t?”

“The Hairy Helpers, from what we’ve gathered, is a public front of werewolf extremists, with a few loyal followers reporting werewolf sightings to the main group. This group have been here for centuries, not based but global – werewolf worshippers,” 

My eyes bulged. “What the fuck?!”

“Yes, I know,”

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “Mags must be going crazy…”

Charlie didn’t comment, and neither did the white coat called Julian. 

“Mikey, the choice is yours – do you want to come on the raid tonight? We don’t know if we’ll be able to convince her we’re safe and it’s your call,”

I looked at him. “Seriously?”

“You’ll have to stay in the copter,”

I sighed. “Alright…she’ll be able to smell me at any rate…when do we go?” I asked eagerly. 

“6 PM, sunset,”

“Can you do me a favour?”

“Well, that depends, what is it?”

“Let her kill them,” I said harshly. Charlie and Julian both looked at me, vaguely shocked. My eyes flickered blood red, my hair bristling. “I mean it. She’s my wife and she’s been stolen, she and I want revenge. Let her kill them all, even if you won’t let me. Find the leader and bring him with us. She and I will put on a show for your watchers unlike anything you’ve ever seen,”


	31. XXXI: Magenta

The sun was setting, I could feel it even as it dipped below the horizon. Everything got colder, everything got darker. Everything just seemed to be a thousand times worse. I sat in the corner of my cell, curled up and head bowed. My hands rested across my stomach, quieting hunger pangs and nausea.

I kidded myself into imaging I could feel the life fermenting inside me. 

“Hello…” I whispered, eyes looking down into bleak darkness. I was light headed with exhaustion…I hadn’t eaten in days, I had been throwing up for hours from anger and fear. And, to top it off, I was pregnant and being held by psychos who wanted to be me.  

I wished Mikey was here, at least to be overly sentimental and gooey to make me feel less icky in comparison. He’d be wrapped all around me, making me feel secure enough to be sarcastic and as bitchy as I usually am. He’d be kissing me and grinning and touching my stomach, and then he’d worry and fret…God, I wanted him to be here so bad. 

My werewolf blood mourned his loss. I was Bound to him, the Binding was an electrifying thing. I poured all my power and soul and love into that bite, holding Mikey’s body in my paws…cradling him. I felt him shake and moan under me, his face ceased in pain. I felt his body judder with the pain of the change, his bones breaking, shattering, splintering inside his arms and legs and torso. I felt him twist as muscles knotted. I watched his skin break away – tearing that face I loved more than my own life in two. 

I watched my mate be born. 

And then…he was torn away from me, stolen the way they stole me. And now…that warm, safe place inside me was sucked out. And instead, filled with sickness and hunger and loss and…apparently, a baby, I thought to myself. 

“Haha…” I giggled. “You’re in my tummy, my tummy, my tummy…” I sang softly, my skull resting against the wall as I rocked slightly, my baggy clothes pulled tight around me. 

“Mags, baby, it’s not in your tummy,” chuckled a soft voice next to my ear. I giggled stupidly, nudging my shoulder, a nudge meant to push away the lover whispering in my ear. 

“Yes it is…it’s a big cooking baby bun in my tummy…”

“No, baby,” Mikey whispered, stroking back my hair gently. I felt the callous fingers brush against my forehead, tracing the dread away from the sweating skin and behind my ear. His touch played down my jaw, onto my neck. “It’s in your womb…it’s a baby, our baby,”

I nodded, smiling, turning my face and opening my eyes to look at his face. I could only see the room…the touch still tingling on my skin. 

I jumped. A sudden, shocked jump. Off the slumped place I was on the floor and to my hands and knees, crouching. Another boom rocketed through the building, on the top of the compound, but echoing into the basement. The walls hummed with impact, the floor too. I hissed, smelling the atmosphere in the whole place turn from whatever it was to panic. 

It coursed through the place like a river – soaking the walls. I could hear guards yelling, intercoms crackling to life, the Hairy Helper fucks getting too scared to deal properly. 

I grinned to myself, lifting myself to the pads of my feet. It was Mikey, I knew it. I could smell him just like I could smell the sun setting and the panic of the men outside the door. I leant my head back, opening my mouth to breath in the stale air carrying the scents of a million different things. 

The scent of gunfire, soot and fire – dust and destroyed rubble. Cold night air, wet mud on boots smothered in leather drenched in water from dew off the grass. Oil, from a vehicle – the swooping sounds told me a helicopter was nearby. 

It was then I got worried – who was attacking? I could smell many men, all dressed in army leather and canvas…metal, weapons, oil – I was going to end off even worse than before, I could tell. 

No more worshippers treating me like a god, instead military arseholes poking at my insides and studying me…what about Mikey? What about my cub?

My hands instinctively circled my lower stomach, nails catching on flannel.

“Mikey…” I whispered. What have you done?

I sunk back down into my corner, terrified. Who had caught him? What had they forced him to do, to tell? Was this it? Was I finally going to be captured properly, put in a real cage? Studied? Cut up? Treated like the caged animal I was?

Was I about to lose my freedom? 

For that fatal second, I was overcome with fury at him – how dare he do this to me! I wished I’d never fallen in love with him, I wished I’d stayed in Canada, hiding and running free and wild in the woods – free, young, strong and happy in the moonlit woods on the mountains…I’d let myself be owned, let myself fall for someone who caged me in a city, married me and then betrayed me to a greater force than raw belief…

Oh Mikey…you fuckwank. 

The fierce thoughts disappeared as booted feet ran down my corridor and voices directed troops towards me, gunfire silencing complaints. Fear ignited the animal instincts in me. 

I wanted to fight, to kill – to smell blood and feel meat under my claws, but the life inside me tugged me into the submissive pose. I was even neutered of my killing instinct by a child he gave me – forced down to protect a life I never wanted to steal my carefree life. 

The door was made short work off – shot through the lock, kicked open. I watched through my dreads as men entered the room. Black and green, holding weapons, balaclava’s blocking faces. One touched the side of his face, tapping a con. 

“She’s here, she’s fine,”

I felt the growl before I heard it, my body coiled and dangerously on edge – every single nerve inside me screaming to run, fight, flee – do something. 

I was about to die, to be captured. Run, you bitch!

“Mrs Way?”

I growled a bit louder, raising my face. He stepped forward, the men around him still aiming at me in case I sprung forward. 

“We’re here to rescue you – your husband sent us,”

“Mikey?” I whispered, narrowing my eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Please come with us, he’s in the copter waiting for you,”

I hissed. “This is a trick!”

The man didn’t respond, he simply pulled a radio off the front of his bullet proof vest and clicked it. 

“Mikey Way, respond please, your wife is requesting proof,”

The con crackled and my heart spun – Mikey’s tinny, computerised voice came from it. “Baby, it’s ok, I’m outside…please, don’t wolf out, just go with them, I’m waiting for you,”

“Mikey…”I whispered.

Another man came in, going for the leader. “Sir, we’ve captured the leader, he’s being detained. As for the compound, it’s secure for the wolves,”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

The leader looked at me. “Way requested this base be left compromised for the two of you to clear together,”

You’ll believe me when I say…I grinned so evilly, the men all shared a tingle of apprehension. I let them lead me outside, catching my elbows when I stumbled. I stepped out of the terrible building, into the cold early night air, and ran. I ran straight into Mikey’s arms. 

I forgot everything, the child, the kidnap, the soldiers – everything. I just kissed him like we’d never been apart and we would never be apart again, I wrapped my arms around his gorgeous white neck and wound my shaking body around him. My legs were wet with dew, my hair itchy on my neck and my lips hungry against his as I moaned and cried, gasping for contact. 

“Mikey,” I whispered, gripping either side of his head, my legs around his waist as I squeezed him into my body. I would never be parted from him again. 

“Magenta,” he whispered, his black and red eyes glowing with love light, his smile joyful as we kissed. I didn’t care anymore, that this was all totally his fault and how irrational I got, I just felt our bodies change together – skin peeling away in our rough embrace. Bones and muscles and bodies twisted, changing, transforming. 

As wolves we returned to the terrible building and…

Well, let’s just say it was bloody. 


	32. XXXII: Mikey

The solid feel of my mate in my arms again was heaven in itself. She didn’t have to do or say anything, all she had to do was breath as gently as she was. Her chest moved over mine, her ribcage writhing with each inhale. Her arms were netted around my neck, her leg caught in between mine and her hair scratching my skin.

We reeked of blood, and sweat, and sex. We were naked and glowing with heat and exhausted. It was early morning, nearly breakfast time, and Magenta and I still refused to get up without the other one, in fear of sudden separation again. 

When the thing torn away from you is returned, you hold onto tens times as fiercely. 

My skin was covered in wounds, mirroring the ones on hers. Bullet grazes, bruises, gashes and bitemarks. Hikkis and nail marks and scratches. 

The blood and the love had merged as we left the building where she’d been held prisoner a slaughter house. In the helicopter back, we wrestled in the back, licking and cleaning and nuzzling with reunion. She rubbed her muzzle down mine and it was like we’d never been taken away from each other. 

Mates, partners, werewolves together and always.  

The night had been a blur. A wild, ecstatic blur. And now, finally, when we’d collapsed into my sagging abused mattress in a tangle of limbs and hair, it was a stand still of silent love. 

“Mikey?” she whispered, her eyelashes flickering over my chest. I groaned softly to show I was listening. 

“There’s something you should know…”

And she told me, in the tiniest voice she could manage. My blood raced again, this time laced with anger. How dare that guy touch her. How dare he drug her? I was growling without realising it, my body shaking now with fury. My grip tightened on her until I was white knuckled and she thumped me on the chest to make me stop. 

“Mikey, say something!” she growled, moving to look at my frozen, enraged face. I couldn’t flicker my eyes to meet hers, I couldn’t even ungrit my jaw. I was stuck staring up, stiff with rage. 

“Mikey!” she growled again, angrier, hitting my face with her open palm, the soft sting rocketing through me. 

“Get up,” I hissed. She scrambled off me, pulling on the soft track jeans my keepers had given her to change. I sat up, my gaze travelling over her body as best I could. My teeth ground inside my skull, blood pounding in my ears. She looked…violent. 

Her hair was insane and short, her eyes wild with every emotion she was capable of, and her skin was ravaged with love marks. But I could still see it…the fingerprints, the traces of saliva belonging to another male. 

I could see the helplessness running through her veins, the drugging poison of rape and molestation. 

And the wolf in me howled in pain. 

I threw myself against the bunker door of our closed room, the lock holding us in. My naked flesh burnt with rage, my nails slicing at the harsh metal and voice raised in anger. I slammed my shoulders into it again and again, Magenta crouched at the floor nearby, her back to the wall and her face in her hands. 

Swears and curse words flurried the air like smoke, billowing from my wide, blood red mouth as my fists pounded. 

“Mikey! Mikey! Calm the fuck down!”

I felt Magenta’s clawed hands grabbing my shoulders and pulling me away from the door, just in time to hear the end of Charlie’s plead. His voice was high and tinny, bubbling out of the intercom like a buzz. 

I ignored Magenta’s hands holding me close to her, moving towards the box on the wall. 

“Take me to him! Take me fucking to him!!” I screamed, my entire body rigid with undiluted fury. Magenta moved away from me again, leaning against a pillar of my bunker and crossing her arms across her breasts, tracing down to sit on the floor again. 

“Mikey, please, calm down. Who?”

“The bastard that raped my wife,” I hissed in a voice so low, menacing and tinged with evil that I heard Magenta flinch and whimper slightly. I couldn’t even look at her without seeing the filth on her body. I knew it’d never wash clean unless the blood of the man who did that to her was the water to wash her. 

“Mikey, none of my men touched your wife,”

I shook my head, chest heaving with exertion. Every ragged breath made my frame sway, my arms shaking from the force my knuckles gripped. I must have looked insane, and I was. Insane with revengeful anger. 

“The leader that held her,” I said. “I know you’re holding him,”

“Mikey…” whispered Magenta behind me, her voice holding the smallest tremble her wolf pride let it. “His name…”

“I don’t need to know his name!” I yelled, spinning towards her. I wasn’t angry at her, I was just…just furious. The kind of fury that can’t be forgotten without blood spilt. “I just want to sink my teeth into him!” I yelled, turning back to the box. “Take me to him!”

“Mikey, it’s the middle of the day-“

“I’ll still kill him with my bare hands, just watch me,” I hissed, my face ceased into a snarl. “We’ve talked too long already, every _minute_ he lives longer is an insult – take me to him!”

“Mikey-“

“TAKE ME TO HIM!” I roared, and threw myself back against the door, pounding the echoes of the bunker into enraged cries of feral brutality. I broke off when I held Charlie’s voice yell out of the speaker. 

“STAND DOWN SOLDIER!” 

“NO! I PROMISED YOU A SHOW, AND I’LL DELIVER IT – TAKE ME TO HIM!” I roared, slamming my fists into my chest and aiming my blood red gaze at the box. It crackled into death and stayed silent. I felt Magenta behind me, her body close to mine. Heat sizzled between us, her hands moving to circle my shoulders and chest, hugging me to her from behind. 

She didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to. Mates never do, the words are written in the blood. She asked me to kill him, to slaughter him. She asked for revenge. 

I waited, listening and breathing fury with each shattering second hat went by. Then a hollow metal boom went through our bunker, the lock sliding out of place. The door was killed open and Charlie stood there, holding onto his revolver at his side. He looked angry, but nothing like me. 

“For fuck’s sake, Mikey, at least put some clothes on first,”

Within minutes, I was being led down the same corridors that would hold me a gloried prisoner for months. I held my mate’s hand in mine, our nails cutting new wedding bands across our skin. Both clothes in soft, worn military clothes, barefoot and trembling. Magenta said nothing, threatened by the soldiers following and leading us – the guns aimed at her in case she pounced. 

I hadn’t told her the deal yet. She hadn’t asked yet. 

I didn’t noticed anything wrong with her, except she was quieter, scared, more…internal. Something was wrong but I never thought to ask in our reunion. 

Charlie wasn’t happy either. 

“Our clients don’t pay to see humans killing humans, they pay for wolves…this is an execution,” he complained. 

“And what are the moon nights? Fair fights? Please,” I scoffed, dismissing his ill feelings. We stopped outside one of the elevators, the same one I rode for my Trial. The soldiers formed a circle, guns held ready but not aiming. Charlie clicked a button to open it. 

“He’s in there, he doesn’t know you’re coming,”

I nodded roughly. “Good,” I turned to my wife, who’s silent face was pale and rigid. “Ready?”

Charlie stopped me. “Only one of you, not both,”

He didn’t give his reasons, and my eyes narrowed. I turned to my bride and kissed her. She didn’t circle her arms back, her mind in turmoil, her body reeking of fear and an emotion I couldn’t taste properly. I pulled back, holding her head in my hands. 

“I’ll get your revenge for you,” I whispered, stroking her with my thumbs. She stared back, her eyes reading nothing. “I promise,”

“Good,” she whispered. “But no, you won’t,”

I didn’t have time to hear her, her knee connecting violently with my groin, and her fist sinking into the side of my face. I crashed to the floor, shock overcoming me more than the pain of her vicious strikes. 

“MAGENTA!” I roared in anger, fighting to see her through my watering eyes. She’d slipped into the box, and jammed the button shut, holding her hands up as Charlie barked the soldiers to stand down. 

I met her eyes as the doors clicked shut and the elevator began to move, fighting to get upright. 

“FUCK!” I roared, throwing myself at the double doors. “You have to let me up there!!”

“Mikey-“

“YOU HAVE TO!” I roared, spinning around and grabbing Charlie’s shoulders, slamming him into the wall. My face was a picture of pure rage. Guns were cocked, men shouting. Charlie held up his hands to his men, his eyes panicked but never leaving mine.   


”Mikey, please…calm down. Think. This is her revenge…she wouldn’t let you take something she needs to take back herself…”

“NO!” I screamed. “HE TOOK MY WIFE! HE DESERVES TO DIE!”

“And she deserves to be the one to kill him,” 

Charlie’s infuriating calmness and logic stabbed my brain, I was so angry I couldn’t even focus on it. I dropped him, backing up and gripping my head, screaming in anger. 

“Gah!”

“Come on, Mikey, we’ll take you where you can watch,” said Charlie, touching my arm. “Unless, of course, she’s already killed him…” 


	33. XXXIII: Magenta

The elevator remained me of a coffin. Cold, reeking of blood and death, and cramped. I stared forward, to where I’d last seen my husband’s outraged, betrayed face. I wouldn’t apologise – this was my fight. 

He screamed and ranted and forced the fight, but I was on a whole new level of revengeful wrath. I was going to revenge my body, my husband, and my baby. 

I hadn’t told Mikey yet…I didn’t know how to say it. I couldn’t even form the words to describe how enormous this was. How much bigger than me this was. How…devastating this was to me. 

But that wasn’t the point anymore. This was the focus now – watching the light between the double doors in front of me travel down the slit and shine into my eyes. I was frozen with everything I was carrying. I could feel the wolf I was howling inside me, screaming for everything taken away from me. 

Now I would take it back and cherish the tastes. 

The doors clicked open just as the growl grew into my throat. Light spilled into the prison, blinding me momentarily as my eyes focussed on a hunched figure against the opposite wall. There were a few scattered cheers, the brave over lookers, knowing they were about to see an execution rather than a fight. 

I stepped into the light, feeling it wash over me with heavy, greasy beams. It filled my muscles with warmth. I held my arms out, my mouth curving into a wicked smile, eyes narrowing. 

“No!” screamed the figure hunched against the wall, seeing me now. He screamed wordlessly, clawing at the walls, begging to be saved. I wanted to laugh, to spit in his face, tell him I told him all along that I’d eat him alive.

I didn’t. 

I was beyond human words, I was deep into wolf logic. 

Crouching down, I bared my teeth, sending a drooling blood red tongue out to lick across my upper lip. Hair all over my body bristled, muscles tensing as the deadly growl grew in my throat to a low roar of aggression. 

“NO PLEASE!”

Hands and feet pushed off the gritty concrete lightly, sending my body curving through the air, straight onto the figure. My hands grabbed his slumped shoulders, throwing him bodily into the middle of the ring to the sound of cheers. I opened my mouth and throat in a snarl, approaching the man who dared to touch me. 

He lay on the floor, wriggling backwards, arm raised against me. His face was sickly pale, his eyes wide and terrified. He was begging, _begging_. He didn’t even give me the option to beg. 

I moved before he could whisper my name again, swooping down and slashing with my claws, aiming for those eyes that saw more than was given. Skin and tissue opened up around my jagged talons, blood and…I don’t know what soaking my fingers and wrist. He fell back, screaming as I held his severed, ruined eyeball up for the gasping crowd to see. 

Blindly, he threw himself back, moaning in pain as the tanginess of the blood covered my tongue. I wiped the blood across my face, anointing my eyes and lips in his scent. My smile was twisted, my body trembling with fury. Pure, undiluted animal fury. 

The kind that broke a sweat across my body, the kind that gripped me in a tense stance. The kind that threw sense to the wind. 

The pain was ferocious, but I barely felt it as I stepped towards his dragging body. Knee caps shattered. Elbows cracked and splintered, ribs popping free and vertebrae dislodging. My entire body echoed with resounding cracks and snaps, but my smile didn’t falter. Itches broke out across me as bones knitted together, muscles expanding growing. 

I grunted, feeling my insides squirm, relocating the child already growing inside me. I groaned in pain, doubling up and covering my stomach with my arms. The crowd booed, unable to know what was happening. All they saw was a break in the attack…

I hissed in pain, gritting my fangs and gripping my nails into my icy skin. 

I threw myself upright, flinging my hair back and ripping the shirt off my torso down the middle, baring skin lined with splits and bleeding seams. 

The cheering died down, shocked. 

I laughed, throwing my head back, feeling the power bunch through my bulging muscle structure. Claws wriggled through fingertips, latching onto peeling skin giving way to hair and blood. I ripped the flesh off my own body, stripping myself fully until only a snarling, mad wolf remained on all fours, fur shaking filth off itself. 

“NO!!” screamed my meal. 

Everything blurred after that. Screaming, from everywhere, grey scale blood splatters across concrete. Skin ripped free of human bones, meat slashed by claws, skeletons ripped into pieces alongside meat and organs reeking of blood and pus. A face mauled beyond recognition, everything that made that man a man torn apart and scattered across the floor. 

I was bathed in blood and skin and teeth and hair, sitting in the carcass of a rapist and a lunatic, howling my revenge and licking my paws almost serenely.

I raised myself up onto four blood caked paws as the elevator doors opened again, offering me rest from the murder and the carnage. I panted my approval, looking around one last time at the massacre left in my name and padded into the cell. 

I left to the sounds of cheers. 

I let men with guns lead me down corridors, tension so high I could smell of sweat and fear on the skins of all the two-legs around me. I could smell bile in the base of their throats, forced out by rancid breathing. Sweat building all over them, trigger fingers slippery as they watched me cautiously. There was the clinging reek of death lacing everything surrounding us. 

I walked calmly, talons clicking on the floor and tail swishing. Blood was drying on my bristled fur, flecking off with bits of tissue or skin. I followed them through into a cell, bound up in walls and bars. The door swung shut and I was closed in, again, a true beast. 

My anger was dissipated. I was just a wolf now, a large, sleek creature of thought and muscle. I looked up as the door to the room opened and someone I dimly recognised walked inside, the door shutting behind him and two soldiers.

“So…you’re the missis,” he said softly, a rounded Scottish accent tickling his voice. I gave a low suspicious whine – this man was the man in charge on me, in control. Wolf logic told me to play nice. He owned my husband’s pelt. Charlie. 

“You’re Canadian, right?” he asked me, walking closer to the cage and crouching down to my level. I snorted, inflecting my head in agreement. My tongue hung out as I panted, entire body heaving as I settled. To him, I was just a woman’s brain inside a dog. “You belong to the Canadian clan,”

It was a statement. I cocked my head to the side. 

“Yes, that’s right – your clan is a very mysterious one, am I right? You believe in…mystical things. Sun and moon charms, silver charms. Beads and bracelets, prayers and rituals…you have a power over the rest of the werewolves, don’t you?”

I said nothing, glancing down at the bracelets still encircling my forepaws, the charms tingling my wolf skin. 

“We heard rumours…” he muttered, his eyes unreadable. In awe, or in fear, or just irritated, I couldn’t tell what he thought. “Rumours that your kind, your clan, were too powerful to predict or to control,”

I snorted, almost laughing. Werewolves were impossible to control, only by locking us away and drugging us, holding bullets to our heads as leashes. 

“You can change in the daytime, it seems, under extreme pressure. You can transform when you need to, when anger drives you to it. You can change on new moon too, aye?”

I didn’t move, I didn’t even blink. Charlie’s smile grew wider. 

“You’re a much more dangerous animal than even Mikey thinks you are,”

I barked at the sound of my mate’s name. 

“Ah, yes, Mikey…he’s outside, he’s howling to see you, he’s scared we’re going to put you down like a dog,”

I whined quietly. 

“But you’re not just a dog are you? You’re something between a goddess and a monster,”

My whine turned into a soft growl. 

“You’re something new, exciting…and dangerous,”

I barked again, standing up again and barking at him, anger returning. I wanted my mate. 

“You can’t stay here any longer, you’re not safe,” he said over my harsh barks. “You will return to your life and stay there, you aren’t secure, if you come near your husband again, we will gut you and him in seconds,”

My barks died and I whimpered, stepping back. No…no. 

Charlie regarded my agitated pacing, my whining, my paws wiping at my weeping eyes. He turned to the soldiers behind him. 

“Bring her mate in for one last goodbye, then knock her out, and call the delivery team,”

The door grated open, the men parted and my mate’s smell surrounded me, his body thrown against the bars as hands and arms reached for me. I whined, pushing myself at the bars between us, licking every inch of his fierce skin I could reach, kissing his face with my love light shining out. 

“Mags…” he moaned, his arms circled around my scruff, squeezing me. “Oh Mags…”

I pulled back, aiming my eyes at first. Werewolves, Bound Werewolves, don’t need words to express love, devotion, thoughts or even hate. I stared into his eyes, seeing the jagged red and gold lines twist and spiral as we spoke. 

_Mikey…_

_Magenta…_

His eyes widened, his hand moving to touch my tender stomach. I whined, nodding my muzzle as I forced my head through the bars, kissing him goodbye. 

“Mags…” he barely managed before the soldiers pulled him away. 

“That’s enough,” one said, Mikey being pulled from my sight as my barks followed him, promising him I’d save him, I’d return, telling him to stay alive, stay safe. His eyes burnt until he was gone. 

I whined pitifully, misery settling as I looked up into the cold face of a solider. He raised his traq. 

“Good doggy,”

Trigger twinged, a release and I howled softly, slipping down onto the floor and into darkness.  

Goodbye for now. 


	34. XXXIV

So this is how it happened from then now. 

They dragged me back, kicking and screaming, to my bunker. I was kept there for over a day, holding the clothes she’d been wearing, breathing in her scent. 

When Charlie finally came, I knew what he’d done. He’d sent her home, away from me. 

From the way his eyebrows were mating on his forehead, I knew I wouldn’t get to see her again. That cut me pretty deep to be honest. 

They didn’t come near me for nearly three days, listening to my echoing howls and the destruction of my bunker. Finally, the players came to beat the pain outta me. 

Bleeding, laughing, drinking beer on the floor with them after we’d fought for hours, I felt a release. 

I was going to be a father. A father behind bars and locked away like an animal. 

I’d keep my promise, I’d stay alive for her…and my unborn child. 

 

 

The end. 


End file.
